Quotes About Regret

I said all the wrong things. Except when I was busy saying all the mean ones and in the end I hated everybody and everything.

Regret can power your telescope, changing what you see.

I lay back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. I hated myself. I thought, I am just a destructive force in the world. Look at all the bodies I leave behind me. *

I sat up and my mouth tasted horrible, like stale pot, beer and Cheetos. The exact combination of ingredients that had caused me to pass into unconsciousness on Natalie's floor.

To live in regret and change nothing else in your life is to miss the entire point.

The past does not haunt us. We haunt the past. We

Then, aided by the booze, like a fool I tossed off one of those throwaway lines that would have been better thrown away. Ah, Frank! I thought you were going to be down here fucking Lana.

Compromise now, because you'll have to later, anyway, only then you'll have gone through things you'll wish you hadn't.

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness--and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark.

She had won the battle against her memories. But one form of torture remained, untouched by the years, the torture of the word why?

So I want to say that of all the people I have known, you are the only person I regret leaving behind.

There were things in my past which I have not liked. But all the things of which I was proud will remain.

He wrote Véra sheepishly: "Something has happened (only don't be angry). I can't remember (for God's sake, don't be angry!) I can't remember (promise that you won't be angry), I can't remember your telephone number." He knew it had a seven in it, but the rest had entirely escaped him.

We most often understand the value of time only when we are in a position of having to regret its loss

Dimitri had driven his mother back to Montreux from the Lausanne hospital at dusk on July 2, in his blue Ferrari, on the last day of his father's life. Véra had sat silently for a few minutes and then uttered the one desperate line Dimitri ever heard escape her lips, Let's rent an airplane and crash.

When men of sober age travel, they gather knowledge which they may apply usefully for their country; but they are subject ever after to recollections mixed with regret; their affections are weakened by being extended over more objects; and they learn new habits which cannot be gratified when they return home. —Thomas Jefferson

But I would prefer not to dwell any longer on these unpleasant memories; a man who for an entire week does nothing but hit himself over the head has little reason to be proud.

Nie ?a?uj, nigdy nie ?a?uj, ?e mog?e? co? zrobi? w ?yciu, a tego nie zrobi?e?. Nie zrobi?e?, bo nie mog?e?.

Triste è l'uomo che ama le cose solo quando si allontanano.

Un dolore che non sentiva da anni lo ferì, una fitta allo stomaco, un'immagine di lei nella grotta, il ricordo del primo sguardo, l'odore dei suoi capelli. Tutto divenne prezioso e lontano, come in una fotografia.

Nowadays a bitter wife or husband might ask, "Whatever possessed me to think I loved you enough to marry you?" Through most of the past, he or she was more likely to have asked, "Whatever possessed me to marry you just because I loved you?

Sometimes a person can say I'm sorry a thousand times and that glue will never dry.

I'll serve something black. Bean soup, licorice, coffee. It'll be very grim, I promise. We'll cover the mirrors. We'll listen to Piaf. We'll read passages from Dostoyevsky.

Maybe we feel such a strong kinship with pique assiette because it is the visual metaphor that best describes us; after all, we spend much of our lives hurling bits of the figurative and literal past into the world's landfill—and then regret it. We build our identities from that detritus of regret. Every relationship worth keeping sustains, at the very least, splintered glazes, hairline fractures, cracks. And aren't these flaws the prerequisites of intimacy?