Quotes About Regret

Some men carry torches for old loves, and then some guys—not many, but some—get completely consumed by the torch's flames. It makes them nothing but long-term trouble for the follow-ups.

The other: "Oh my God, we were like so wasted." "From beer?" "Beer and shots, yeah." "How did you get home?" "Randy drove." At the top of the stairs, Myron stiffened.

I remember everything about her. The way she looked. The way she smelled. The way she'd come home from her job so tired she could barely put her feet up. I don't think I've talked about her five times in the past twenty years. But I think about her every day. I think about why she gave me up. And I think about why I still miss her.

Some things we pack away, stick in the back of the closet, never expect to see again—but we can't quite make ourselves discard them. Like

Marianne drank. She drank for many reasons. Most of the time it was to party. She had been in too many places like this, looking to hook up and hoping it would come to more.

Hello, Cassie," Harry said. His voice was stiff. He shifted in his chair. "How've you been, Harry?" His clear blue eyes looked at her in a funny way. This wasn't like him, but it had been nearly two decades. People change. She started to wonder if coming here had been a mistake.

Jessica Culver sat in her family's kitchen, in the very seat she had sat in innumerable times as a child. She should have known better. She should have thought it through, should have come prepared for any occurrence. But what had she done instead? She had gotten nervous. She had hesitated. She had stopped for a drink in the bar below his office. Stupid, stupid.

Go fuck myself? Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? Really, David, I'm disappointed. I came here for a serious philosophical discussion. We know things others don't. I want to understand what could possess a man to do something so barbaric. To kill his own son.

She started playing what-if, wondering what would happen if her father suddenly materialized in the seat next to her, if she told him that she knew everything and that he had been given a second chance, what would her father do? Death was probably a great educator.

Philip had been betrothed to Ruth for over forty years, but some nights he still thought about Sophie more than he cared to admit. The sliding door. The road not taken. The big what-if. The good one he'd let get away.

Ted scolded himself for even thinking about his daughters, for letting that kind of purity enter his mind while he was in the presence of a monster like Ross Sumner.

Myron put the picture down. In the background, Betty Buckley was not singing "Memory," but maybe she should have been. These boxes were a life—a life that in spite of these experiences and dreams and wants and hopes had chosen to terminate itself. From

So even if I didn't wield the weapon that smashed my son's beautiful being into the mangled mess I found on that awful night five years ago, I didn't stop it either. I didn't do my job as his father. I didn't protect him. Guilty or not guilty of the actual murder, it is my fault and thus my sentence to serve.

DR. Harvey Riker replaced the receiver. He sighed heavily and put a hand through his long, unruly, gray-brown hair, a cross between Albert Einstein's and Art Garfunkel's. He looked every bit of his fifty years. His muscle had turned to flab from lack of exercise. His face was average to the point of tedium. Never much of a hunk to begin with, Harvey's looks had soured over the years like a two-dollar Chianti. He

Emily tried a smile, but it just wasn't happening. "Well, well, well," she said when they were alone. "If it isn't the good one I let get away.

He hadn't been inside this six-story pachyderm in seventeen years, but if this stomach lining could talk.… He let the smile hit his face. Why not? Why the hell not? He had tortured himself long enough.

Janice Matley. As quickly as the name had formed in his mind, Eric pushed it away. No use thinking about that now. Dead was dead. No comeback. No reprieve. Nothing. Eric

But here's my problem: My son, my Mikey, is still dead. And here you are, David, living and breathing and enjoying a fucking pizza.

I wish I had a nickel for every song that I've left in the bathroom, written down on a matchbox, or just totally forgotten about.

I would say that playing this character has caused me to think about a lot of things. He's always questioning himself and trying to get back to something he lost touch with and trying to find forgiveness. Everybody struggles with these things to some extent in their life.

It took me less than half a lifetime to realize that regret is one of the few guaranteed certainties. Sooner or later everything is touched by it, despite our naive and senseless hope that just this time we will be spared its cold hand on our heart.

Family life is tough, I'll say that for it. But in my case, I've mined the family. In a sense, I've used it. I've used what happened - the different events, the births of children, birthdays. Connecting, not connecting. Regret, shame, guilt. I mean, they're all in the songs. And love, too, I hasten to add.

My father wasn't around much. He made mistakes, but he had a very tough road.

To all my fans who planned to come to the Future History World tour, the pain of letting you down cuts me way deeper than this injury I've sustained.