Quotes About Regret

A man lives morally all his life, then in one weak moment commits an act that damns him in his own eyes and threatens his liberty, even his life.

The images I'd most like to wipe away cling to life with the tenacity of weeds, while those I want to treasure fade like the blush on a rose.

Because death is the end, and if a man doesn't speak before it silences him, then the things he holds closest die with him.

behind them.

The past is always with us, darling," Tom went on. "Sometimes we carry it lightly, but other times it's like dragging a wounded brother behind you.

Lenz snorts. "My mistake.

Penitence is nothing but a form of self-indulgence. Some things you cannot wash from your hands, and there's no use in trying." He

Remorse is feeling sorry, while repentance is being sorry enough to stop.

Guilt is an indulgence, it entangles you in the past.

What if the worst thing you ever did was something you didn't do?

Kathy's death, and what he'd done to get rid of her body, was an anvil pitched on Dave's shoulders. He knew he could never erase what he'd done. He thought of how Kathy's family would always wonder where she'd gone, and if she was happy.

It seems there are no do-overs for bad mothers.

I should have gotten a dog.

And though he could woo and bed any woman he wanted, and had done so with the regularity of a tomcat, he underestimated the tenacity of a woman scorned.

It takes only the mention of a single word to take her back to the unthinkable.

The past reflects eternally between two mirrors -the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn't do or say.

Powerful people have no regrets.

you can't kill love. you can't even kill it with hate. you can kill in-love, and loving, and even loveliness. you can kill them all, or numb them into dense, leaden regret, but you can't kill love itself. love is the passionate search for a truth other than your own; and once you feel it, honestly and completely, love is forever. every act of love, every moment of the heart reaching out, is a part of the universal good: it's a part of God, or what we call God, and it can never die.

They claim a hidden corner of our hearts, all those moments that stay with us unscreamed. That's where loves, like elephants, drag themselves to die. It's the place where pride allows itself to cry.

Slowly, desolately, the fist of what we'd done unclenched the clawed palm of what we'd become.

Regret is a ghost of love. Regret is a nicer self that we send into the past from time to time, even though we know it's too late to change what we said, or did. We do it because it's human: a thing of our kind. We do it because we care, drawn by threads of shame that only fray and wither in the sea of regret.

Mistakes are like bad loves, the more you learn from, the more you wish they'd never happened.

The past reflects eternally between two mirrors—the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn't do or say.

It is always a fool's mistake, Didier once said to me, to be alone with someone you shouldn't have loved.