Quotes About Regret

I love you, but I love the past even more. I long for it, I long for it, I am consumed with longing for it. The past! I shall cry, I shall suffer because the past will never come back again.

Sin, sin! To rid myself of boredom by committing a crime, to break up monotony by deceiving. To sin in order to be a new person, another person. To hate life worse than it hated me. To sin so as not to die.

The man who insists upon seeing with perfect clearness before he decides, never decides. Accept life, and you must accept regret.

The tragic solemnity of existence strikes us with terrible force on that morning when we wake to find the mournful words "too late" ringing in our ears.

Jeg ville ønske, du aldrig var kommet så natten heller aldrig var gået. Og jeg ville ønske, du ikke var blevet så morgenen heller aldrig var kommet. Jeg ville ønske, det aldrig blev sommer så sommeren altid var på vej.

E in qualsiasi città ci fermiamo sono le case cui è troppo tardi per tornare i giardini in cui è troppo tardi per trascorrere una notte di luna e le donne che è troppo tardi per amare a tormentarci con la loro impalpabile presenza.

Our yesterdays are like a lonely and a ruined land wherein a breeze of recollection sighs--a fading land to which is no return.

For looking down the ladder of our deeds, The rounds seem slender: all past work appears Unto the doer faulty: the heart bleeds, And pale Regret comes weltering in tears, To think how poor our best has been, how vain, Beside the excellence we would attain.

The end we know not; but we wander on, down the regretful wilderness of time.

When it's time to die, let us not discover that we have never lived.

I, who cannot stay in my chamber for a single day without acquiring some rust, and when sometimes I have stolen forth for a walk at the eleventh hour of four o'clock in the afternoon, too late to redeem the day, when the shades of night were already beginning to be mingled with the daylight, have felt as if I had committed some sin to be atoned for.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.

May we so love as never to have occasion to repent of our love!

Make the most of your regrets. . . . To regret deeply is to live afresh.

Most people dread finding out when they come to die that they have never really lived.

Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink, I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper; fish fill the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars. I cannot count one. I know not the first letter of the alphabet. I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born.

He sat there staring down into the descending darkness, his thoughts wildly mixed and uncertain. For the moment he knew only one thing; from this night forwards he would never be able to think of Jane Hudson or her sister without experiencing all over again the same awful retching sickness that he felt now.

I think I don't regret a single 'excess' of my responsive youth — I only regret, in my chilled age, certain occasions and possibilities I didn't embrace.

We must know, as much as possible, in our beautiful art… what we are talking about—and the only way to know is to have lived and loved and cursed and floundered and enjoyed and suffered. I think I don't regret a single "excess" of my responsive youth—I only regret, in my chilled age, certain occasions and possibilities I didn't embrace.

Live all you can: it's a mistake not to. It doesn't matter what you do in particular, so long as you have had your life. If you haven't had that, what have you had?

George Bernard Shaw: "There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it.

I was human, very human, and if in the days misspent I have injured man or woman, it was done without intent. If at times I blundered blindly — bitter heart and aching brow — If I wrote a line unkindly — I am sorry for it now.

Every surgeon carries within himself a small cemetery, where from time to time he goes to pray – a place of bitterness and regret, where he must look for an explanation for his failures.' René Leriche, La philosophie de la chirurgie, 1951

Every surgeon carries within himself a small cemetery, where from time to time he goes to pray – a place of bitterness and regret, where he must look for an explanation for his failures.