Quotes About Regret

Even so tiny a loss has the power to still feel like a loss.

In sleep things are simpler. No regret over the past. No worry for the future. Only the present. And as bad as a dream gets, at least you get to sleep through it.

What is the true cost of a man's mistakes?

he stood up in church and apologized for the spilling of "innocent blood.

I feel, in the end, as if everything I've done has been a failure.

Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other path, no other way, no day but today.

There is no future, there is no past. I live this moment as my last. There's only us. There's only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road. No other way. No day but today. I can't control my destiny. I trust my soul, my only goal is just to be. There's only now, there's only here. Give into love, or live in fear. No other course, no other way. NO DAY but TODAY

The real cruelty of dying was not the way your own obscene dreams went gray. It was the fact that you lost the chance to tell your story.

I would have liked to play the piano. Once at a concert an elderly lady leaned toward me: "You are a pianist, aren't you?"—"Unfortunately not, madam," I had to answer with regret. Even today, the thought that I don't play the piano and never will play it suffocates me, sometimes even more than the horrors, the dark river of my past carrying me through the years. I literally can't get over it.

So is that it? Will I have to live the rest of my life like this? Not doing the right thing? Not saying the right words?" "That's your choice. You can't change the past. Ah, but the future. . .you own the future." The Greenman smiled. "So, you tell me. . .what choice do you want to make now?

I'm not sure the word "sorry" does anything justice. It's such a loose word isn't it? I mean how can one puny word encompass all the stuff you did - But also the, all the things you didn't do? It's the inactions that keep people up at night. The actions, they're done. They're done. It's the inactions that never go away. They just hang there. They ROT. How is sorry supposed to stretch across all that?

Gran Gran recalled the bloodstained dress she had taken off the girl. It was made of blue silk muslin and finely embroidered, stitched by somebody who knew what they were doing. She hated having to toss the ruined garment into the stove. The smell had sickened her. Since she was a girl, she had never forgotten the odor of beautiful things set afire. Such a waste!

I hated myself for going, why couldn't I be the kind of person who stays?

The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did.

Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.

We lose the things we do not cherish enough, his one thought, his only thought, as he slips into his workman's tunic, buttons it over his street clothes, and opens the closet door.

Fifty years isn't too bad. With luck you might see it happen when you're a sweet, old granny, dandling big fat babies on your knee. Actually"—he held up a hand, interrupting Kitty's cry of protest—"no, that's wrong. My projection is incorrect." "Good." "You'll never be a sweet old granny. Let's say, 'sad, lonely old biddy' instead.

A word of friendly advice could have saved him, but dear me, I was too busy watching him unravel to think of it until it was far too late.

So stop worrying about the past. The past is for ghosts. We've all done things that we regret. It's what's ahead of us that counts.

Much has happened since last we met, Bartimaeus," he went on. "Do you remember how we parted?" "No." I did. "You set light to me, old friend. Struck a match and left me burning in a copse." The crow shifted uneasily beneath the cleaver."That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland...

Time is painted with a lock before, and bald behind, signifying thereby that we must take time by the forelock; for, when it is once past, there is no recalling it.

I would have done the same thing I did. I would have put all my energy into loving someone that wasn't you. I would have tried in vain, every day, to not think about you, and what could have been. What should have been. I would have tried to convince myself that there's no such thing as true love, except for the love you yourself make work, even though I know better....The bottom line is I never had any business marrying anyone who wasn't you.