Quotes About Regret

The letter was destroyed, but its final paragraph is still inside of me. She wrote, I wish I could be a girl again, with the chance to live my life again. I have suffered so much more than I needed to. And the joys I have felt have not always been joyous. I could have lived differently.

She was the tree and also the river flowing away from the tree, 'There are worse things,' she said, 'worse than being like us. Look, at least we're alive,' I could see that she wanted those last words back, but the current was too strong.

It wasn't too late to turn around, before I got to the place I couldn't come back from.

In its eyes I was sure I saw some form of understanding, but I didn't see forgiveness.

How, after all, can one miss something one has never known?

Ela escreveu: quem me dera ser outra vez rapariga e ter a possibilidade de viver de novo a minha vida. Sofri muito mais que o necessário. E as alegrias que tive nem sempre foram alegres. Podia ter vivido de uma maneira diferente.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.

Ik dacht, het is jammer dat we moeten leven, maar het is doodzonde dat we maar één leven krijgen, want als ik twee levens had gehad, had ik er eentje met haar doorgebracht. Dan was ik bij haar in de flat blijven wonen

But I didn't know, just like I didn't know it was the last time Dad would ever tuck me in, because you never know.

Maybe we're just missing things we've lost, or hoping for what we want to come.

Hoewel hij het bijna voortdurend betreurde dat hij zichzelf was, verwarde hij zichzelf nooit met het probleem. De wereld was het probleem. Die paste niet. Maar hoe vaak zou er ooit iemand gelukkiger zijn geworden door het laakbaarheidsrecord van de wereld te verbeteren?

Embarrassment is the Parmalat of emotions.

Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone.

you dont know what you got till its gone

So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way.

Ai, nunca mais seus lábios, sua língua, nunca mais sua ardida boca de cebola crua!

In vain have oceans been squandered on you, in vain the sun, wonderfully seen through Whitman's eyes. You have used up the years and they have used up you, and still, and still, you have not written the poem.

El tiempo es muy lento para los que esperan, muy rápido para los que tienen miedo, muy largo para los que se lamentan, y muy corto para los que festejan. Y para los que aman… para los que aman, el tiempo es eternidad. W. SHAKESPEARE

When you reach my age, you realize you couldn't have done things very much better or much worse than you did them in the first place.

What man of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite?

Emma dropped the paper. Her first impression was of a weak feeling in her stomach and in her knees; then of blind guilt, of unreality, of coldness, of fear; then she wished that it were already the next day. Immediately afterwards she realized that that wish was futile because the death of her father was the only thing that had happened in the world, and it would go on happening endlessly.

I never reread what I've written. I'm far too afraid to feel ashamed of what I've done.

I can't talk about my books. I have written them and tried to forget them. I have written once, and readers have read me many times, no? I try to think of what I wrote, it's very unhealthy to think about the past, the case of elegies is very sad, as much as the case of complaints.

There is a line in Verlaine I shall not recall again, There is a street close by forbidden to my feet, There's a mirror that's seen me for the very last time, There is a door that I have locked till the end of the world. Among the books in my library (I have them before me) There are some that I shall never open now. This summer I complete my fiftieth year; Death is gnawing at me ceaselessly.