Quotes About Regret

Nothing would ever be the same, but Hannah had taught her that there were times, rare as they were, when what was done could be undone.

Neki ljudi znaju to?an trenutak kad su sve izgubili. Mogu se vratiti u prošlost i vidjeti to jasno kao na dlanu, ali ni za živu glavu ne mogu shvatiti zašto to nisu primijetili dok se doga?alo.

Sorry," Mary said. "I had some errands to run." Pauline eyed her. It would be Pauline's way to say, No you didn't. It would be Pauline's way to refuse the decorum of the fib, to embrace the painful honesty. It would be her way to say, You just didn't feel like having lunch with me. Which would have been true, of course. And no less embarrassing, regrettable, awkward, no less vigorously denied, because it was true.

But now as she watched her cousin's husband . . . , the little boy asleep against him, she felt only a dazzling and depthless loss. Not because her own child would never know its father, the father never know what rest his body had been formed to give, but because she was not the child she had once been but would never be again. Because the shoulder and chest and arms that had once so casually and so thoroughly held her had left the earth long before she had lost her need for them.

Mary Keane saw how the news made Michael pause, and then change his mind about rolling down the window. He lifted the paper cup from between his knees, took a drink of it. Annie said, "Really?" but it was Jacob who said, "Maybe we should go home," a crimp of fear in his voice. Her fault. She saw her husband flex his jaw. He did not love his oldest child as he should. There

Marcel Proust was denied the chance to decipher the enigma of his life. I believe that the quest for "lost time" in the title of his great novel was the quest for the life he never lived. In

There would never be any room in her for anything else. No room for anything but the realization of what she had done.

Now that I think of it, she looked splendid. I wish I had met her somewhere else. I wish I had appreciated her as she deserved. I wish that everything had gone differently.

And at the end of his letter one terrible sentence. 'If I loved you I would have written differently.

I used to feel for years and years and years that I was very remiss not to have written a novel and I would question people who wrote novels and try to find out how they did it and how they had got past page 30. Then, with the approach of old age, I began to just think: "Well, lucky I can do anything at all.

You would think that Rosemary would understand that. She should have understood what such a choice said - that Karin was not to be made happy, amends were not possible, forgiveness was out of the question.

We say of some things that they can't be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do—we do it all the time.

Life is always so full. Getting and spending we lay waste to our powers. Why do we let ourselves be so busy and miss doing things we should have, or would have, liked to do?

She did not have time to wonder about his being late. He died bent over the sidewalk sign that stood out in front of the hardware store... He had not even had time to get into the store...

We say of some things that they can't be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do - we do it all the time.

Takich okresów nie tyle siÄ™ ?aÅ'owaÅ'o, ile siÄ™ je skreÅ›laÅ'o. I wydawaÅ'o mi siÄ™, ?e teraz jakaÅ› cz??? mnie - chora cz???? - zostaÅ'a skreÅ›lona. (...) ZahibernowaÅ'am siÄ™ i wegetowaÅ'am w postaci dawnego ja: upartego jak osioÅ', niekobiecego, nieracjonalnie skrytego. (...) Nie byÅ'am dziwolÄ…giem. ByÅ'am normalna.

Life has a lot of surprises up its sleeve . . . I just mean there's more than one way to love God, and taking pleasure in the world is surely one of them. That's a revelation that's come on me rather late. Too late to be of any use to your mother . . . No. Guilt is a sin and a seduction. I've said that to many a poor soul that liked to wallow in it. Regret's another matter. How could you get through a long life and escape it?

Ja vaikka he edelleen esiintyivät minun ei kovin eroottisissa kuvitelmissani, he olivat jo poissa. Jotkut heistä, monet heistä, lopullisesti poissa.

He had been my almost. My might-have-been. I was afraid of what I wanted most - His kiss. Still, I collected kiss stories. -Susie Salmon

Out loud I said I had two children. Silently I said three. I always felt like apologizing to her for that.

What I think was hardest for me to realize was that he had tried each time to stop himself. He had killed animals, taking lesser lives to keep from killing a child

Everyday he got up. Before sleep wore off, he was who he used to be. Then, as his consciousness woke, it was as if poison seeped in. At first he couldn't even get up. He lay there under a heavy weight. But then only movment could save him, and he moved and he moved and he moved, no movement being enough to make up for it. The guilt on him, the hand of God pressing down on him, saying, You were not there when your daughter needed you.

Placing blame was easier than adding up the mounting figures of what he'd lost.

They would go back to their homes and put me to rest, a letter from the past never reopened or reread.