Quotes About Regret

Author Ambrose Bierce said, "Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.

If Romeo had never met Juliet, maybe they both would have still been alive, but what they would have been alive for is the question Shakespeare wants us to answer.

One of the biggest regrets of life, I think, is a sense of having gone on the trip but missed the adventure.

The burning eyes did not come back, but memories did, came flooding in. The words. Always the words. Divorce.

Summer is a Latvian chicken. We make foolish choices. We think we're young again. We run with outstretched arms toward an object of love and it pecks us and pecks us until we're standing there snot-nosed and teary in the middle of Astor Place and the sun sets fire to our Penguin shirts and all that is left to do is go to our air-conditioned homes and ponder the cruelty of our finest season.

It was the one time in my life I did something without thinking it through. People like me, people like you, all we think about is consequences. Practically from the day we're born. And look at our fucking lives.

I could almost love you again.

In the glittering light I got drunk and reeled through the rooms, And cried, "Cartagena! swamp of unholy loves!" And wept for the Indian whores who were younger than me, and I was eighteen, And splashed after the crew down the streets wearing sandals bought at a stall And got back to the ship, dawn came, we were far out at sea.

me, like the feeling you get when you've just splurged on something too expensive and they're wrapping it up in soft tissue paper. You know you're going to feel bad in hours, maybe minutes, but right now you feel decadent, in control.

Wait. So what am I supposed to do now? You know, Jin, I would have saved myself from five hundred years' imprisonment beneath a mountain of rock had I only realized how good it is to be a monkey. (222-223)

I have tried hard to punish myself for that, and certain other things. No more. Let the Outsider punish me; we deceive ourselves when we think that we can measure out justice to ourselves. I wanted to end my guilt. What was just about that? I should feel guilty. I deserve it.

Why should the Increate protect us from ourselves? We might protect ourselves from ourselves. It may be that he will help us only when we come to regret what we have done.

Lois had gone out of my life (I should say that she had left my future—I could never eradicate her from my past, no matter how hard I tried)

His eyes say quite plainly that he once trusted someone, that he has been repenting it for longer than you or I have been alive, and that he will never take the chance again.

A young man seeks a woman and finds her and is great and dies to the world. Afterward he is never as great again, but the woman is a comfort to him, reminding him of the time that was, and he is a little again with her what once he was wholly.

From the top of the ramp he looked back and saw them go, their glasses crashing to the flagstoned paths and brick paved patios, their cigarettes dropping like poisoned fireflies. "I loved you," the girl said. "Or at least I liked you. You'll be gone in a moment and I can't even ask you to kiss me, because I'm going to be sick." "We're still here," John Edward told her, "both of us." And she was gone.

The past stood at my shoulder, naked and defenseless as all dead things, as though it were time itself that had been laid open by the fall of the mountain.

Nothing moved except the white bird, which flew back and forth with a slow, sad motion that seemed so weary that every time two wings rose I felt that it was about to fall into the sea, and the Short Sun, which crept down to the empty horizon as remorselessly as every man creeps toward his grave.

Urban Trelawny is a bony man of fifty and more, with side whiskers. His eyes say quite plainly that he once trusted someone, that he has been repenting it for longer than you or I have been alive, and that he will never take the chance again.

Where there is no repentance, forgiveness is only permission by another name. I

A knight," I told myself, "doesn't bother to count the enemy." Another step, and another. "But I wish I'd found Disiri—that I could see her once more before I go." Ben, I cannot tell you how I knew then that I was going to lose even the memory of her. But I did.

Dorcas belonged, as I now realized, to that vast group of women (which may, indeed, include all women) who betray us—and to that special type who betray us not for some present rival but for their own pasts.

However much I love a woman—or however little—I find I want her most when I can no longer have her.

She would think I was an idiot, and I knew it. Only if I had not whistled, for the rest of my life I would remember that moment and how I had wanted to whistle but had not had the guts.