Quotes About Regret

He sat on the edge of the bed, his aching head in his hands for a few moments. Deuce take it, I wish I were dead.

She did not have the willpower to send him through that door, knowing that he might never come through it again, or through any of the doors into her life.

Allie. The woman he had loved in different ways for fourteen years. But always deeply. Always more deeply than he had loved anyone or anything else, including himself. Especially himself. Indeed, he was very close to hating himself at that moment.

He had known that memories would be stirred if he saw her again. He had known, surely, that somehow he would be hurt by them.

She felt a welling of love for him and a sinking of sadness. If only seven years could be erased.

All that had happened would not have happened. She would not be raw with pain. She would be safely content.

He had paid dearly for his secrecy, for his lack of courage in coming to the point.

He had to force himself not to pull her into his arms to comfort her. Damn it, he had hurt her when he had meant only to tease. And he was uncomfortable with feelings of compassion.

He rode away from her with the deepest regret.

Oh Christopher, she thought, burying her face in her hands again, why? Why did you have to turn out this way? Or why did you not show yourself in your true colors before I was foolish enough to love you?

She would never marry a rake, if you will pardon my plain speaking. Then she will reform him . . . A reformed rake makes the best of husbands, it is said.

No es fácil mirar el propio pasado, sobre todo cuando uno creía que se habían borrado todas las huellas.

My life came to an end the day I left you. I have lived in hell since then. Were those the feelings of a man who did not know what deep emotion was?

Guilt can eat away at you and destroy the future as well as the past.

He had loved her as she had loved him. A foolish youthful emotion that was as insubstantial as a dream—and that left enough pain in its wake to cripple one for a lifetime.

Could she ever have imagined in those few golden months that one day they would be in a room together, separated as if by a thousand miles?

It had always seemed unfair to him that Web had confided his love for her when she was fifteen before he had thought to confide his own.

She was engulfed by mingled panic and indecision, and by a terrible depression. She would never see him again. He would come riding out of the stable in a moment and disappear down the driveway, and she would never see him again. Ever.

Ah, Gerard, Gerard , she found herself thinking. Why could you not have remained simply the golden boy of my memories?

I wish I had realized that before. But it is true. And now I may hate you with my whole heart.

Into what had she allowed herself to be goaded?

I am sorry now. I missed an hour of your company. A dreadful thing to miss, he said. Your life will be forever impoverished, Allie.

I am sorry all the same, she said. And that it rained this afternoon. I could have wished that today would be perfect.

He would see her for perhaps five minutes the next morning, when he would be tongue-tied with all there was to say. And then the journey back to London. And Cassandra. And his wedding. And the rest of his life. And never Allie again. Never again.