Quotes About Regret

To have the vice of scruple - to be an automaton of remorse.

Só às crianças e aos loucos perdoamos que sejam francos connosco: os outros, caso tenham a audácia de os imitar, arrepender-se-ão mais cedo ou mais tarde de o terem feito.

The advance of regret can be so gradual that it is impossible to say "yesterday I was happy, today I am not.

When love flies it is remembered not as love but as something else. Blessed are the uneducated, who forget it entirely, and are never conscious of folly or pruriency in the past, of long aimless conversations.

One touch of regret- not the canny substitute but the true regret from the heart- would have made him a different man, and the British Empire a different institution.

Too late... everything's always too late.

The ethereal past had blinded him, and the highest happiness he could dream was a return to it.

She had a strong, if erroneous, conviction of her own futility, and wished she had never come out of her backwater, where nothing happened except art and literature, and where no one ever got married or succeeded in remaining engaged.

Most quarrels are inevitable at the time; incredible afterward.

Of all means to regeneration, Remorse is surely the most wasteful.

By God, if you'd split on me to Mr Ducie, I'd have broken you. It might have cost me hundreds, but I've got them, and the police always back my sort against yours. You don't know. We'd have got you into quod, for blackmail, after which — I'd have blown out my brains.' 'Killed yourself? Death?' 'I should have known by that time that I loved you. Too late . . . everything's always too late.

This episode, which she thought so sordid, and which was so tragic for him, remained supremely beautiful. To such a height was he lifted that without regret he could now have told her that he was her worshipper too. But what was the use of telling her? For all the wonderful things had happened. 'Thank you,' was all that he permitted himself. 'Thank you for everything.

She lowered her eyes a moment to the black abyss of the past.

No, it is better not to risk a second interview. I shall always look back on this talk with you as one of the finest things in my life. Really. I mean this. We can never repeat. It has done me real good, and there we had better leave it." "That's rather a sad view of life, surely." "Things so often get spoiled." "I know," flashed Helen. "But people don't.

It is like you to have thought of such a beautiful thing." Not a thing, only an ending," said Helen rather sadly; and the sense of tragedy closed in on Margaret again as soon as she left the house.

The tide had begun to ebb. Margaret leant over the parapet and watched it sadly. Mr. Wilcox had forgotten his wife, Helen her lover; she herself was probably forgetting. Every one moving. Is it worth while attempting the past when there is this continual flux even in the hearts of men?

To such a height was he lifted, that without regret he could now have told her that he was her worshipper too. But what was the use of telling her? For all the wonderful things had happened.

Quando o amor se vai, é lembrado não como amor, mas como algo diferente. Felizes são os ignorantes, pois esquecem por completo, e nunca estão conscientes da insensatez e da lascívia do passado, das longas e inúteis conversações.

The Wilcoxes were not lacking in affection; they had it royally, but they did not know how to use it. It was the talent in the napkin, and, for a warm-hearted man, Charles had conveyed very little joy. As he watched his father shuffling up the road, he had a vague regret—a wish that something had been different somewhere—a wish (though he did not express it thus) that he had been taught to say 'I' in his youth.

Oh, what have I done?" "You fainted." "I—I am very sorry.

Clive, did I hurt you?' 'No.' 'My darling, I didn't mean to.' 'I'm all right.' They looked at one another for a moment before beginning new lives. 'What an ending,' he sobbed, 'what an ending.

Oh God, forgive me for the hateful thoughts, because I love them, these brutal, disarming bastards, I love them …

If I could be small again, Monique told me at the playground's fence, slurring her words and watching Caitlin sob, I'd want to have a friend like her.

What you keep by you, you may change and mend but words, once spoken, can never be recalled.