Quotes About Regret

I didn't know what to do, there was a feeling of time running out and a loss of momentum, of opportunities wasted.

When he was thirteen, he used an anti-Semitic epithet to describe a Jewish friend. Thinking of the moment more than seven decades later, Bush volunteered the story and cried, shaken by guilt over a remark made in the 1930s. He shook his head in wonder at his own insensitivity. "Never forgotten it. Never forgotten it." (The classmate remained a Bush friend and supporter for many years.)

Shall we go?' he murmured, perhaps regretting his decision to show me his army of plastic cartoon figurines.

He said his worst days were when he allowed himself to hope for a second chance. The best were when he knew it was over forever and his destruction was necessary as a deterrent to others. I

He perdido el buen nombre, la parte inmortal de mi ser, y solo me queda lo más bestial.»

Guy fell silent again. And then he said—and his voice sounded sorrowful and distressed—"Last week I killed my hamster." "Just by staring at it?" I asked. "Yes," confirmed Guy.

im sorry I sniffed, but I have to go to an orgy.

But there's another story, A real short one, probably written on my grave: couldn't stay sober. Never liked himself.

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.

guilt's a whore. It goes with anybody, but it's not good in bed. You're not dying, but this thing you've got with the girl is no different than my situation. We could both use up whole days feeling guilty 'bout what we didn't do in life, but why spend a day in bed with someone who doesn't give you any pleasure?

When I was younger, I had a girlfriend. She was like a thousand-dollar perfume—unique, gorgeous, but then gone much too soon.

Listening to him, I realized how lucky I was not to have had a wonderful childhood. Those who do, or those who peak in their early years, have only that remembered joy or strength to tide them over the rest of their lives. Nothing could ever be as good as that time; for them nothing ever is.

It was too late the day you met Kathy. It'd be you and Kathy – not you and me – if I let you live.

Resolved, that I will live so, as I shall wish I had done when I come to die.

I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live... - Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

He wanted this someone to see how much he hurt.

Everything he'd done with regard to her in the last three years had been calculated to foreclose the intensely personal sort of talks they'd had when he was younger: to get her to shut up, to train her to contain herself, to make her stop pestering him with her overfull heart and her uncensored self. And now that the training was complete and she was obediently trivial with him, he felt bereft of her and wanted to undo it.

She has embarrassingly inquired, of her children, whether there's a woman in his life, and has rejoiced at hearing no. Not because she doesn't want him to be happy, not because she has any right or even much inclination to be jealous anymore, but because it means there's some shadow of a chance that he still thinks, as she does more than ever, that they were not just the worst thing that ever happened to each other, they were also the best thing.

As soon as she hit the Send button, she had a spasm of remorse; her interval between action and remorse was diminishing so rapidly that soon she might be all remorse, unable to act at all; which might not be such a bad thing.

The following afternoon, alone in their room, and oppressed by not yet having made the promised call to Connie...

I considered, quite seriously, strangling her to death while I fucked her and then throwing myself in front of the 8:11 bus. The idea was not without its logic and appeal. But there were the bus driver's feelings to consider Ã¢â'¬Â¦

His problem consisted of a burning wish not to have done the things he'd done.

She, for her part, was accustomed to my leavings and didn't complain too much. But she still felt about me what she'd always felt, which was what I wouldn't really feel about her until after she was gone. I hate it when Daylight Savings Time starts while you're here, she told me while we were driving to the airport, because it means I have an hour less with you.

Taking a cab to the city center, she was pierced unexpectedly by regret for not doing exactly that: not walking the streets as an independent adult woman, not cultivating an independent life, not being a sensible and curious tourist instead of a love-chasing madwoman.