Quotes About Regret

Next morning I crept up to my room, the bitter flavour of disgust and shame in my mouth. Now that the warmth of her body no longer troubled my senses I felt the glaring reality, the repulsive nature of my betrayal. I knew at once that I would never again be able to look him in the face, never again take his hand--I had robbed myself, not him, of what meant most to me.

Vader wasn't a galaxy-conquering psychopath. He was a sad man whose one love in life had died, and whose one anchor to the world of the living was, yes, a galaxy-conquering madman.

I went and bought Guitar Towns by Steve Earle instead of listening to my better self...After a bit, and despite my new relationship with time, I began to experience impatience. One song at a time was taking too long. I began to wonder if there wasn't some way I could cram all this music in at once. Oh hell. That's called fucking.

The past gets swallowed up in the extraordinary circumstances of now. But mostly it hurts too much to let my mind go back.

Lament the human addiction to apologies, and how easily they are botched.

I would just as soon die now, but I haven't done anything yet to be remembered by

September] 27th [1862] If I had had my way, this war would never have been commenced.

Life, too, is like that. You live it forward, but understand it backward. It is only when you stop and look to the rear that you see the corpse caught under your wheel.

My VIP patients often regret so many things on their deathbeds. They regret the bitterness they'll leave in people's hearts. They realize the no money, no church service, no eulogy, no funeral procession no matter how elaborate, can remove the legacy of a mean spirit.

When I kissed Havah at that moment I felt hundreds of windows fly open inside my heart. It made me wish that I had never kissed anyone else.

Cattle and fat sheep are things to be had for the lifting, and tripods can be won, and the tawny high heads of horses, but a man's life cannot come back again, it cannot be lifted Nor captured again by force, once it has crossed the teeth's barrier.

For them, and for Homer, impermanence is life's central sorrow and the source of its most lasting pain.

Love, Jamie P.S. I can't believe you're dying. Please don't die.

There you go. Perfect. And can you still throw up at will like you could in sixth grade? That would be good.

It's at times like this, said Pu Sto, massaging her wounded shoulder gently and grimacing, when I'm sitting inside Shakespeare's nose about to be shot through the torso - for the second time today - by one of our government's most capable assassins, that I really wished I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young.

But in the languor of disease and the weariness of old age, the pleasures of the vain and empty distinctions of greatness disappear. To one, in this situation, they are no longer capable of recommending those toilsome pursuits in which they had formerly engaged him. In his heart he curses ambition, and vainly regrets the ease and the indolence of youth, pleasures which are fled for ever, and which he has foolishly sacrificed for what, when he has got it, can afford him no real satisfaction.

I remembered about the pharma coke, went outside, and nailed a line so pure it was like getting yelled at by God.

I ached and ached, but I didn't know what aching was, so I thought it was love. I wrote her I loved her. I wrote her to love me back. I wrote her I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was sorry for. But I felt it in the swell of my belly, full of apples and regret. Deep and primal. The first feeling I ever learned to name.

And now I'm old. That bus is parked permanently. The battery is dead. And I can't remember where I put the jumper cables.

She savored their conversation, and often, when doing her chores, she remembered the words he said to her and how hopeful he was that she might kiss him again. Now she wished she had. because one kiss is not enough.

There was no comfort in happy memories; they just made it all seem worse.

You cannot buy time when it has been stolen from you.

In visions of the night, like dropping rain, Descend the many memories of pain

Pour everything out for the blood you have shed, you're wasting your time in appeasing the dead.