Regret Quotes - Page 12

Regrets are useless, " the Fool replied. "All you can do is start from where you are.

Do you know what it is like,to lie in bed awake;with thoughts to hauntyou every night,of all your past mistakes.Knowing sleep will set it right - if you were not to wake.

I was so blinded by her talent that I didn't recognize the tremendous pain behind her work. She gave me hundreds of images, so many chances to see that she was in trouble. I failed her.

It is better to stay single and wait for the one that makes sense then to marry someone that makes absolutely no sense. The moment you settle is when the one person that makes all the sense in the world shows up and Satan sits back and enjoys your spiritual meltdown.

The only people in the whole world that Salim loved had been killed by the virus that traveled to America in his own blood.

If I'm sincere today, what does it matter if I regret it tomorrow?

We only have one life and two choices: sadness and regret for a past we cannot change or happiness for every moment we can choose how to live.

The first reaction is surely the most natural one, but not always the most correct one; thereupon, the invention of apologies.

The blossoms fall just once each winter, yet in our memories, they fall every day.

You may not appreciate the presence of good health, but you will definitely regret the absence of good health, because health is happiness.

What if I had told the boy I loved to leave and it ended up being for nothing?

For it is now to us itself ancient; and yet its maker was telling of things already old and weighted with regret, and he expended his art in making keen that touch upon the heart which sorrows have that are both poignant and remote.

No time for better words, no time to unsay anything.-Til We Have Faces

Maybe he was going to hell. Except, he could’ve sworn that was where he’d been the past ten years.

Commitment separates those who live their dreams from those who live their lives regretting the opportunities they have squandered.

She had dispersed. She was the garden at Prem Nivas (soon to be entered into the annual Flower Show), she was Veena's love of music, Pran's asthma, Maan's generosity, the survival of some refugees four years ago, the neem leaves that would preserve quilts stored in the great zinc trunks of Prem Nivas, the moulting feather of some pond-heron, a small unrung brass bell, the memory of decency in an indecent time, the temperament of Bhaskar's great-grandchildren. Indeed, for all the Minsisster of Revenue's impatience with her, she was his regret.And it was right that she should continue to be so, for he should have treated her better while she lived, the poor, ignorant, grieving fool.

The only things I regret, and the only things I'll ever regret are things I didn't do. In the end, that's what we mourn. The paths we didn't take. The people we didn't touch.

Any anger I feel vanishes. What is left cannot be described. It is guilt piled onto emptiness and set afire.

For with each bite he tasted not just the irresistible sweetness of the dessert, but the deliciously agonizing negative flavor of all the imagined foodstuffs that he could have bought with that nickel instead—a turkey leg the size of his forearm, or a milkshake with a pair of deep red strawberries floating on its surface. The single relinquished nickel sat in the custard seller's till, its gold transmuted back to lead.

All people share doubts. The lingering question that eventually worms it way into all thinking people’s brain is how to live splendidly and how to die without remorse and regret.

I'd felt the pop of the needle sliding into my veins, like a fang into flesh. I'd been enveloped in the golden haze where nothing is wrong even when everything is falling apart. A dance with a hypodermic fiend, my hands in the claws of a vulture.

Indecision and fear can cripple any chances of succeeding and lead to maelstroms of regret that fuel our most fantastic nightmares.

I wish I had been born a storm. No heart, no tears, just a terrible gale'd been good.

Let's not worry. It's too late now. It will always be too late, fortunately!

RebukeObstinate regressionbringing untold pathsof deep dark forebodingdepression...

Better to leave with good memories than have the last ones be the embarrassing, smoking ruin of what once had been a fantastic friendship.

People die all the time. Life is a lot more fragile than we think. So you should treat others in a way that leaves no regrets. Fairly, and if possible, sincerely. It's too easy not to make the effort, then weep and wring your hands after the person dies. Personally, I don't buy it."Yuki leaned against the car door. "But that's real hard, isn't it?" she said."Real hard," I said. "But it's worth trying for.

Never regret on something you can fix.

You remember the dialogue you had with yourself, you can quote the emotion word for word, as if you’re still there, as if it matters that you can map in detail the geographies of regret.It starts with a hope and ends with a turn of the stomach: a cringe at the excuses you make for your heart, a momentary forever you remember on alternate days over coffee and novels that hit too close to home.You cry because you know the point at which you could have turned back but didn’t, could have taken time by the throat and resisted, could have ignored the phone, answered that message, said no, said yes, said nothing, smiled - whatever it is that you didn’t do. But by the time that moment ends, it is over and you are in too deep, wondering why there exists no rewind button for the soul, no second chance for the petty player, no backup plan for those who risk everything on nothing, all at once.

Technically, all tattoos are temporary, even permanent ones.

The only thing I regret about my past is the length of it. If I had to live my life again, I'd make the same mistakes, only sooner

They don't give gold bracelets for regrets.

He told himself he would pretend nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t fool himself. He could forgive himself for having done something wrong, even something so immoral, so reckless. Harder to live with would be what would come next: living with the knowledge of what he’d done, but not letting on.

We are now left to choose between danger and regret, neither of which can restore the lives we have lost.

Letting go of people doesn’t mean you never loved them. Sometimes, it is the greatest act of love because it teaches them to be accountable for how they treat people who care. Maybe, not now, but years from now, they will look back and realize that kindness is more than yelling casual suggestions to a person that is drowning in their sea of apathy.

Mistakes and regret, desease and death...ain't recognized by mind that capable on changing them into otherwise.

By trying to export myself into a place that didn't fully exist I asked works of art to bear my expectation that they could be better than life, that they could redeem life. In fact, I believe they are, and do. My life is dedicated to that belief. But still, I asked too much of them: I asked them also to be both safer than life and fuller, a better family. That they couldn't give. At the depths I'd plumb them, so many perfectly sufficient works of art would become thin, anemic. I sucked the juice out of what I loved until I found myself in a desert, sucking rocks for water.

Some thoughts should never be conceived. Some questions should never be asked, because they have no answer, and the questions themselves serve only to haunt with grinding guilt and second guessing.

Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.

You will find yourself with a beautiful boy and you will not want to stay in that room, with him, even though there is nothing more you can ask for in another human beingand there is nothing you can do about this.

She felt the intimate loss of who she was meant to become.

I began to curse the past for passing.

I guess that's the lesson in all of this-not to be eighty years old, looking back on your life, wondering if you made the right choice or how your life might have been different if you'd done one thing and not another.

Act with though awareness and love in the present moment then you will never need to worry about the thought of regret.

If you are afraid to take a chance, take one anyway. What you don't do can create the same regrets as the mistakes you make.

Tex's head snapped in my direction.Fuckin' A, woman, you've never had a s'more? he boomedI shook my head.Christ, everyone's gotta have a s'more before they die. Fuck that shit, I'll build a fire in my backyard tonight and I'll stop by Kumar's on the way home to get the stuff. Everyone can come by-

I got to wear blinders all the time so I won't think sideways or in the past.

It gripped her hand gently. 'Regret is for humans,' it said.She laughed. 'Really?'The machine shrugged and let go of her hand. 'Oh, no. It's just something we tell ourselves.

Plain speaking is necessary in any discussion of religion, for if the freethinker attacks the religious dogmas with hesitation, the orthodox believer assumes that it is with regret that the freethinker would remove the crutch that supports the orthodox. And all religious beliefs are 'crutches' hindering the free locomotive efforts of an advancing humanity. There are no problems related to human progress and happiness in this age which any theology can solve, and which the teachings of freethought cannot do better and without the aid of encumbrances.

Looking back on my life, I sigh. The caprice of youth goes with the wind, I’ve no regrets.

Regrets of the past can be turned into seeds to grow a more positive future or unlearned, doomed to repeat the same.

And he had a theory about fear. It was all about regret. If you make what you want out of life and don't bullshit yourself about your choices, then there are no regrets, and a man without regret isn't afraid of anything.

To regret your soul is to regret your past.

There was this movie that I would watch with her all the time, some stupid chick flick, and it had this opening line that would always make her catch her breath. 'I remember it hurt. Looking at her hurt', and I now realize that it was true. Every day I looked at her, it hurt. Hurt so much, because she was dying, and I couldn't help her.

No matter what sort of car you are driving or how fast you drive, we all meet behind the same red light.

He was terribly conscious that he only had one life and it seemed to sad to think that he had wasted it. He could never surmount his immeasurable regret. And that's why I tell you that Byring is right. Even though it only lasts five years, even though he ruins his career, even though this marriage ends in disaster, it will have been worth while. He will have been satisfied. He will have fulfilled himself.

The point is that everyone needs some exposure to the various ways of life. People buy things out of catalogues too much. They see in Time magazine that they're suppose to be feeling in such and such a way, and they dash off a check and buy that life-style sight unseen. A pig in a poke if there ever was one, for once you've bought the thing there's no refund. We ought to be able to try things before we sign up for them. Used to be you could listen to the records in a record store before you bought them. Now they're sealed, for your protection, they say. Bullshit! It's for their goddamned protection, not ours. We don't need to be protected. We need to be allowed to get a taste of something before we accept it.

So yes, I say things I regret constantly, and I just can't help it.

I never even heard her voice."And after a while:"It is a strange grief."Softly:"To die of nostalgia for something you never lived.

She cried aloud, with a great mourning cry for all that she had never known in this life, and the agony of a bereavement unguessed till this moment.