Quotes About Regret

She regrets the breakup of the Soviet Union and blames Western-imported corruption

What kind of parents are you? You lost one son, but you threw the other away.

Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past.

The shadow past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst.

Evil is a point of view. We are immortal. And what we have before us are the rich feasts that conscience cannot appreciate and mortal men cannot know without regret. God kills, and so shall we; indiscriminately He takes the richest and the poorest, and so shall we; for no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves, dark angels not confined to the stinking limits of hell but wandering His earth and all its kingdoms.

Oh Lestat, you deserved everything that's ever happened to you. You better not die. You might actually go to hell.

I's only the things you don't do that you end up regretting: the women not courted, the paintings not painted, the paths not taken.

I refuse to remember the dead. And the dead are bored with the whole thing. But you - you go ahead, go on, go back down, into the graveyard, lie down where you think their faces are; talk back to your old bad dreams.

It was a shame about him...really...

She HATED to think about her sins.

He wished he had inhabited more of his life, used it better, filled it fuller.

But if you never did anything you couldn't undo you'd end up doing nothing at all.

Hazel could not explain that she had forgotten, that there was Jack and soul-sucking villains, and sometimes you are too scratchy to remember the things you are supposed to do, even if you do feel really bad about it later.

He's gone now. He did something terrible, but...he did good things, too. And he kept us well. And it's all right if you are sad.

Hugging himself, Oscar leaned against the pantry wall. For two days all he had wanted was for Caleb to come back, and now he was back and Oscar had made a mess of things: he had angered half the customers and confused the other half, and the coin boxes did not look as they should, and [rich, noble] people were complaining about him, and he couldn't look at anybody, and [redacted] was dead, and Oscar was odd. 'What if he doesn't keep me?

er kann sich nicht entscheiden und er muss. Am Ende lässt er seine Kinder mit ihr ziehen, er bleibt zurück [...]. Die Tür hat sich hinter den dreien längst geschlossen, da steht er noch und möchte weinen weinen weinen, und wir, wir stehen in der fernen Zeit und stehen und finden keinen Satz und keinen Vers und keine Zeile, die etwas andres möchte als zu stehen mit ihm und zu weinen.

Want als je geen toekomst meer hebt, wat blijft er anders over dan dromen van het verleden.

For if you no longer have a future, what else is there left but dreams of the past?

If you no longer had a future, what else is there left but dreams of the past?

The more I ponder a bright post–self-loathing future, the less possible—the less allowable—it seems. Thus since I surely have no future—because I deserve no future—I have just the past. Which I wasted hating myself. Which I regret. The brighter a putative post–self-loathing future seems, the worse my past appears, thus more regrettable. Self-loathing taught me this.

He was always sorry. He always told you how sorry he was.

One sometimes clings tightly to pain, to bitter home-sickness and bitter regret, but one forgets one's guilt; in vain, you might think back to the beginning (who led me this far?). If only you were allowed to accuse once more, turn to others once more, love once more! You plunge into the wide, ocean-like hallucination, you have faith and pray, and forget your dark fear when you gaze into the face of your beloved. But how should one fight it?

Ich weiß nicht, wie ich ein Gestern ertragen habe, und ein Vorgestern, und die vielen Tage, die sich noch rückwärts reihen.

In the first hour of the new day, in the cold, strong wind that already reaches our native shores, yes, in this one moment of eternally returning regret I realise: what staggers us, over and over again, is the morning splendour of departure!