Quotes About Unfulfilled

and I weep over a dead life that I carry inside me and never lived.

A happy past in whose remembrance I would also be happy, with nothing in the present that would cheer or even interest me, with no dream or possibility of a future that could be any different from this present or have a past other than this past! – here lies my life, a conscious ghost of a paradise I never knew, a stillborn corpse of my unrealized hopes.

The amount of death terror experienced is closely related to the amount of life unlived.

She was unequal to anyone's wistfulness. She had made too little of her life. Its loneliness shamed her like a crime.

This is why a woman makes things up: Because when she dies, those lives she never got to are all going down with her. All those possibilities will just site there like a bunch of school kids with their hands raised and uncalled on--each knowing, really knowing, the answer.

He had reached a dead end. He had been content to drift from moment to moment of existence for thirty years like some heavily armored creature, sluggish and indifferent.

Here lies the life I might have had once upon a time, the man I might have loved for all my life, the days we might have had.

Marcel Proust was denied the chance to decipher the enigma of his life. I believe that the quest for "lost time" in the title of his great novel was the quest for the life he never lived. In

There ought to be one place you thought about and knew about and maybe longed for--but never did get to see.

She didn't really plan to travel there. She said there ought to be one place you thought about and knew about and maybe longed for but never did get to see.

What usually has the strongest psychic effect on the child is the life which the parents have not lived

The unlived life isn't worth examining.

Weep for the lives your wishes never led.

They cared for no one, they were outside humanity, and death, had it come, would only have continued their pursuit of a retreating horizon.

Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was - my dashed hopes, my dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

I wish I were a white crayon, that way no one could use me.

Who had he been? A failed father, a runaway husband. A son. A packet of unopened letters. He was dead; he was dead.

But I am not allowed to speak to foreigners and I am not allowed to leave the country. So I'm not so happy.

But did I ever get over her? She came to symbolize everything I wanted and would never have.

Written kisses never arrive at their destination; the ghosts drink them up along the way.

I'm restless and poisonous.

It is a terrible thing to want something you cannot have. It takes you over. I couldn't think straight because of it. There was no one else, I realized, whom I could possibly tell.

She must have sensed she never really had him. That was a sadness of hers, he knew.

I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it's perfect... As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.