Quotes About Regret

Sometimes he would forget her, but in forgetting he would remember her again, and the ache for her would return with a vengeance.

Regret, he now knew, was a useless emotion, the poor cousin of guilt.

I learned something that day: there may be worse things than arriving somewhere with your dog and leaving without him, but there aren't many.

Contentment is a very underrated feeling, but you only learn that as you get older, and with it comes regret that it took you so long to realize what you'd been missing.

It bore an expression he'd seen before: love poisoned by disappointment.

Funny, that. For so long Wormwood had desired the throne and then, when he'd had it, it hadn't been worth desiring after all.

God would even have forgiven Judas Iscariot, had he asked for His forgiveness. Judas wasn't damned for betraying Christ. He was damned for despairing, for rejecting the possibility that he might be forgiven for what he had done.

my God was like a parent always trying to watch out for His children, but you couldn't always be there for your children, no matter how hard you tried. I had not been there for Jennifer when she most needed

wanted to talk to them. I wanted to tell them that I was sorry. I wanted to say what every child wishes to say to his parents when they're gone and it's too late to say anything at all: that I loved them, and had always loved them.

And his voice was filled with regret, and fondness and hope.

Why are you so worried about him, after all that he's done to you?

drinking whisky in kitchens by candlelight, drinking with men who have failed and men who have yet to fail. He wishes

As he listened to her, David wondered again how Jonathan could have betrayed this girl. He must have been so angry and so sad, and that anger and sadness had consumed him.

la habitual rutina del bebedor: primero ira, luego sensiblería, tristeza, arrepentimiento, rencor.

You're a vile human being," said Pettle, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them.

Don't ask us what it's like in that moment when the body skitters away from that stupid sheepy shape of breath. Down here, no one asks. We all died boot to throat. We all went out shrieking some bloody name. ~Danielle Pafunda, "The Dead Girls Speak in Unison

My pal is dead.

I'd been hurt, and in response I had acted violently, destroying a little of myself each time I did so.

Sin pressed on her. He held her like forgiveness. "Poor child," he said. "Lost. But no more.

I used to think, in Belaire, that maybe you had gone to live with the List, and it hadn't suited you, and that one spring they'd bring you home dead. From homesickness. I saw how you would look, pale and sad." "I did die," she said. "It was easy.

It's like those high-school yearbook photos that everyone would rather not see: Oh my God, look at that mullet hair. I have those photos too, but for me, they're, like, entire movies. And they show them on cable.

It can happen to anybody, getting all hung up on some twenty-year-old quiff. Like the little dog in the freight yard, and the train nips off the end of his tail and he yelps and spins around and it cuts off his head. Never lose your head over a piece of tail.

It would be one kind of penance. And there are never enough kinds. Not for him. Not for me. And certainly not for you, my friend.

I heard his library burned down and both books were destroyed -- and one of them hadn't even been colored in yet.