Quotes About Regret

My fond affection thou hast seen, Then judge of my regret To think more happy thou hadst been If we had never met.

O God! O God! that it were possibleTo undo things done; to call back yesterday!That Time could turn up his swift sandy glass,To untell the days, and to redeem these hours.

Hell is truth seen too late.

One more unfortunate,Weary of breath,Rashly importunate,Gone to her death!Take her up tenderly,Lift her with care;Fashioned so slenderly,Young, and so fair!

Now 'tis little joyTo know I'm farther off from heavenThan when I was a boy.

We never repent of having eaten too little.

We never regret having eaten too little.

Would it have made a difference? This is the question we always ask after we have given up.

VICEROY OF PORTUGAL. ...My late ambition hath distain'd my faith; My breach of faith occasion'd bloody wars; Those bloody wars have spent my treasure; And with my treasure my people's blood; And with their blood, my joy and best belov'd My best belov'd, my sweet and only son. O, wherefore went I not to war myself The cause was mine; I might have died for both: My years were mellow, his but young and green; My death were natural, but his was forc'd.

To the regret of pessimists, our primitive ancestors could not see that theirs was not a time in which to produce children.

I have died so little today, friend, forgive me.

Walking upright between the past and future, a tightrope walk across our times, became, for me, a way of living: trying to maintain a balance between the competing gravities of birth and death, hope and regret, sex and mortality, love and grief, all those opposites or nearly opposites that become, after a while, the rocks and hard places, synonymous forces between which we navigate, like salmon balanced in the current, damned some times if we do or don't.

Ev'ry season hath its pleasures: Spring may boast her flow'ry prime, Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures Brighten autumn's sob'rer time... Nor regret the blossoms dying, While we still can taste the fruit.

He was in the far too familiar position of being amazed by his own stupidity.

Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must die.Lord, have mercy on us!

In mourning the plumage, he forgot the dying bird

You were not contented while you had her, and to weep for her now is childish.

I would give worlds, if I had them, that the Age of Reason had never been published. Oh, god, save me; for I am at the edge of hell alone.

It often seemed to Jake that wisdom had settled on his own head like a wreath from heaven some time around age sixty, after it was too late to do him much good and was more of an irritation than a pleasure.

A Christian is a man who feels Repentance on a Sunday For what he did on Saturday And is going to do on Monday.

I AWAKENED THAT MORNING to birdsong. It was only the little yellow bird who lives in the locust tree outside our bedroom window, but I could have wrung his neck, for it was not yet six and I had a hangover.

But we shook hands", I told her fiercely. "He forgave me - I know he did." "It's easy for the dead to forgive", she said, equally fierce. "But it's the living you've got to ask it of.

The pleasure of sin is soon gone, but the sting remains.

Either sin must drown in the tears of repentance—or the soul must burn in hell.