Quotes About Regret

When I am old, I hope to remember sadness unequivocally.

Anno domini—that's the most fatal complaint of all in the end.

Quoting Goethe :) "We lay aside letters never to read them again, and at last destroy them out of discretion, and so disappears the most beautiful, the most immediate breath of life, irrecoverably for ourselves and for others.

Agenbite of inwit. Conscience.

One by one they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.

Maestre Yoda, îmi pare r?u. - Åžtiu, dar s? îl înfrunÅ£i pe Vader din nou trebuie, iar scuza nu te ajut?.

If only I had been able to examine the evidence while it was fresh! But no: I had followed my prick instead. What would Sherlock Holmes have said?

You tried to stick your cock in his mouth." "I panicked. I thought it might be my only chance.

As usual, I was letting my dick do the thinking.

That is the finest piece of ass I've ever seen in all my days," he said. "You sure you want me to fuck it? Almost seems a shame.

I believe every...man remembers the girl he thinks he should have married. She reappears to him in his lonely moments, or he sees her in the face of a young girl in the park, buying a snowball under an oak tree by the baseball diamond. But she belongs to back there, to somebody else, and that thought sometimes rends your heart in a way that you never share with anyone else.

How do you explain to yourself the casual manner in which you threw your life away?

Age is a clever thief. It takes a little from you each day, so you're not aware of your loss until it's irreversible.

Bad as was being shot by some of our own troops in the battle of the Wilderness,—that was an honest mistake, one of the accidents of war,—being shot at, since the war, by many officers, was worse.

The prospect filled him with regret, but a man had to tend to his own garden first before he could tend to the gardens of others.

You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.

I knew then what I had done. I had killed a man. I had killed a man to get a woman. I had put myself in her power, so there was one person in the world that could point a a finger at me, and I would have to die. I had done all that for her, and I never want to see her again as long as I lived. That's all it takes, one drop of fear, to curdle love into hate.

Too often, we think of sin as self-contained, point-in-time choices with no interconnection or momentum. But sin refuses to remain contained in the moment it is conceived.

You have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by. Yes, but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.

As I stand in the vestibule of self-abnegation, I wish to say that I have no regrets. Unfortunately, that would be the foulest lie. I fiercely regret my impending absence.

I was so sorry, deep in my heart I was sorry, but all your "sorrys" are gone when a person dies. She was gone. Gone. That's why you have to say all your "sorrys" and "I love yous" while a person is living, because tomorrow isn't promised.

He's a drunk. One of those guys who dies at twenty and is buried at eighty.

This novel business is an awful business. Why the hell did I ever get mixed up in it?

I regret that I should leave this world without again beholding him.