Quotes About Regret

The things I could have done had Hollywood been more open? I don't dwell on coulda-woulda-shoulda. Because, hey, I've had a great career.

My best friend died in a high-speed chase.

Football is full of highs and lows, but when people retire, they often say, 'I wish I'd enjoyed it more.'

You don't know how hard I found it, signing the order to terminate your life

Alas, how easily things go wrong! A sigh too much, a kiss too long And there follows a mist and a weeping rain And life is never the same again

Those are not the tears of repentance!... Self-loathing is not sorrow. Yet it is good, for it marks a step in the way home, and in the father's arms the prodigal forgets the self he abominates.

She could now be sad without losing a jot of hope. Nay, rather, the least approach of sadness would begin at once to wake her hope. She regretted nothing that had come, nothing that had gone. She believed more and more that not anything worth having is ever lost; that even the most evanescent shades of feeling are safe for those who grow after their true nature, toward that for which they were made—in other and higher words, after the will of God.

forgive me for feeling so cross and proud towards the unhappy old lady—for

He has wronged me grievously. It is a dreadful thing to me, and more dreadful still to him, that he should have done it. He has hurt me, but he has nearly killed himself.

Alas, how easily things go wrong! A sigh too much, or a kiss too long, And there follows a mist and a weeping rain, And life is never the same again.

But in after days Cosmo repented of having so completely dropped the old gentleman's acquaintance; he was under obligation to him; and if a man will have to do only with the perfect, he must needs cut himself first, and go out of the world.

By God, I wish that spit had been a real one, with me to turn it.

A thing which I regret, and which I will try to remedy some time, is that I have never in my life planted a walnut. Nobody does plant them nowadays—when you see a walnut it is almost invariably an old tree. If you plant a walnut you are planting it for your grandchildren, and who cares a damn for his grandchildren?

There were things, your own acts, from which you could never recover. Something was killed in your breast: burnt out, cauterized out.

When I was young and had no sense In far-off Mandalay I lost my heart to a Burmese girl As lovely as the day. Her skin was gold, her hair was jet, her teeth were ivory; I said, For twenty silver pieces, Maiden, sleep with me. She looked at me, so pure, so sad, The loveliest thing alive, And in her lisping, virgin voice, Stood out for twenty-five.

You're dishonoured, somehow. You've sinned. Sinned against the aspidistra. You talk a great deal about aspidistras, said Ravelston. They're a dashed important subject, said Gordon.

His mother's memory tore at his heart because she had died loving him, when he was too young and selfish to love her in return

and it is one of the tragedies of the half-educated that they develop late, when they are already committed to some wrong way of life

I betrayed you,' she said baldly. 'I betrayed you,' he said.

There were things, your own acts, from which you could not recover. Something was killed in your breast; burnt out, cauterized out.

Tanr? bana sinekleri kovay?m diye bir kuyruk vermi?; ama ke?ke sinekler de olmasayd?, kuyru?um da.

Gordon wished he would come in. Sell him a copy of Women in Love. How it would disappoint him! But no! The Welsh solicitor had funked it. He tucked his umbrella under his arm and moved off with righteously turned backside. But doubtless tonight, when darkness hid his blushes, he'd slink into one of the rubber–shops and buy High Jinks in a Parisian Convent, by Sadie Blackeyes. Gordon turned away from the door and back to the book–shelves.

she had died loving him, when he was too young and selfish to love her in return

El recuerdo de su madre le torturaba porque había muerto amándole cuando él era demasiado joven y egoísta para devolverle ese cariño y porque de alguna manera — no recordaba cómo— se había sacrificado a un concepto de la lealtad que era privatísimo e inalterable.