Quotes About Regret

How could I miss him? I didn't even know him.

It can be really exasperating to look back at your past. What's the matter with you? I want to ask her, my younger self, shaking her shoulder. If I did that, she would probably cry. Maybe I would cry, too. It would be like one of those Marguerite Duras books I tried to read in Svetlana's aunt's apartment. Elle pleure. Il pleure. Ils pleurent, tous les deux.

but I couldn't see him or talk to him because he didn't love me. I couldn't be with him for one minute, not even for the weird leftover hours that nobody else wanted, like from one to three a.m. on a Wednesday." "'In Turkey? You wouldn't have a nervous breakdown. You'd give them a nervous breakdown.' I forgave him for a lot when he said that. I forgave him for almost everything.

It can be really exasperating to look back at your past. What's the matter with you? I want to ask her, my younger self, shaking her shoulder. If I did that, she would probably cry. Maybe I would cry too. It would be like one of those Marguerite Duras books I tried to read in Svetlana's aunt's apartment.

Even as the words came out of my mouth, my heart was dying a million deaths.

If divorce is like death, then is not the perpetration of divorce a kind of murder? That is, are we not risking putting ourselves through the same torment—the same sleepless nights, feelings of persecution and guilt, the regret—as one of those pathetic characters from a Dostoevsky novel? It's like you've just struck your wife with a candelabra and now you're looking at her lifeless body on the floor, and suddenly she looks pretty.

If while alive you hurt or disappoint people you love, there's no use continuing such behavior when you're dead.

It occured to me that we will never be young again.

Some wars are unavoidable and need well be fought, but this doesn't erase warfare's waste. Sorry, we must say to the mothers whose son's die horribly. This will never end. Sorry.

Words spoken cannot be recalled, and many a man and many a woman who has spoken a word at once regretted, are far too proud to express that regret.

It is worse than a crime, it is a blunder.

I was wrong to grow older. Pity. I was so happy as a child.

Mad is the man who is forever gritting his teeth against that granite block, complete and changeless, of the past.

Man spends his life in reasoning on the past, in complaining of the present, in fearing future.

Tante pagine sublimi sono state date alle fiamme, mentre questi documenti schifosi stanno ancora qui nella mia biblioteca.

entirely, and he could hear the boy's slow, labored breathing. God Almighty, he thought. He had seen some bad things; some pretty bad things in seventeen years of soldiering. Done them, too. At Werbomont

I am in mourning for my life. I am unhappy.

I would like to be a free artist and nothing else, and I regret God has not given me the strength to be one.

I can't be forgiven so I am not asking you for forgiveness. We lost each other, and we will never find each other again.

I don't know what happened between the two of you. I don't know if it can be forgiven. The hardest thing always is to forgive yourself.

There are some movies that I would like to forget, for the rest of my life. But even those movies teach me things.

I wouldn't want my daughters to date a guy like me. I was dangerous around women in my twenties. I'm terrified that they might end up with someone like me.

Can't a man blaze up in anger & make a mistake, then repent & be pardoned?

I thought my fireplace dead and stirred the ashes. I burned my fingers.