Best 2371 quotes in «regret quotes» category

A redeemed woman leaves regrets behind.

A red carpet and red rope stanchion sets demarcated a runway and seating areas. Silhouettes of prominent action heroes posing on silver and gold LED blocks illuminated the whole area. Black silk covered tables and chairs, with centerpieces of colossal martini glasses containing glowing ice cubes.

Are guilt and regret not messages from inside of us, letting us know that our moral compasses have been recalibrated and are pointing in the right direction?

...aren't the memories worth something? Does it all have to be swept under the rug of regret?

Are you all right? With your Guild, I mean?" Alain considered the question. "They suspect me of being attracted to a Mechanic. They are right, but so far lack proof. They do not suspect that I love you, or who you are, but I have no doubt of what they will do if they discover either of those things." "Oh, blazes." Mari lowered her head to rest her brow against the cool stone of the fortification. "I have ruined your life." "You have given me back my life.

Are you sorry? Do you wish you could do it all again and go off and write novels instead of being a teacher? No. You can’t trade what is for what might have been.

As a man gets older, his regrets changes. Especially when he's gotten into the Scotch.

As he left Yata’s home that morning, he knew that a part of his life was complete and that whatever path he chose, he would experience the ache of unfulfilled dreams. For a moment he allowed himself to feel regret at the thought of never building a cottage by the river with Trevanion. Or living the life of a simple farmer connected to the earth. Or traveling his kingdom, satisfying the nomad he had become. To be Finnikin of the Rock and the Monts and the River and the Flatlands and the Forest. To be none of those at all. Yet he also knew that to lose her to another man would be a slow torture every day for the rest of his life.

As I let it out, layer by layer, Dr. Driscoll helped with the bumps and valleys. He knew just how much to draw out of me and how much I could handle. He is such an expert in his profession. He told me that the guilt I was feeling was not guilt, but regret. Guilt is a good thing. It is a mechanism by which we shouldn't make the same mistake twice. If you do something questionable, then the next chance you get to do it, guilt should stop you. I had no guilt. I had regrets, many regrets, but no guilt. It took some convincing, but he prevailed. There was always a nagging in my head, that if only I had had the guts to kill Neary myself, it would have stopped him from harming others, but that was not to be as a small boy. It does hurt that, maybe, just maybe, if I had carried out one of my many plans to kill him and myself then I could have saved victims younger than I. As victims come forward from almost all the churches where he served—and some are twenty—five plus years my junior—I feel that they would have been spared, if only I hadn't chickened out as a boy. Therein lies the answer; I was a little boy, a ten—year—old boy. Other victims of Neary were as young as six.

As still and clear as glass, the water seemed to exist solely to mirror the sunset. The wind changed course in the sky, causing wave-like ripples up there. The whole world seemed covered in gold, slate, and cloud, very distinct and separate in places, obscure and entangled in others.

As the song goes, 'You are lost and gone forever, oh my darling, Valentine.'" [...] I’m listening to someone give up. Someone I knew. Someone I liked. I’m listening. But still, I’m too late.

As when we can recall so vividly We almost touch, Or think of all the gestures that we failed To make.

A thorough inspection of someone you believed to be loveable will send you back into your shell if all you saw in their life was all bullshit.

At her words, words of forgiveness from Rose, an honest and just woman, something broke inside of Wince. His tears began to flow. Age seemed to drift from his face like misty ghosts from a morning field. Katie lifted his chin and, holding back her own tears, looked into his eyes. "Thank you, Wince." Eve placed her free hand on his shoulder. "May we hold her now?" Wince nodded and gently released the baby into the waiting arms of her sisters. "You did the right thing, Wince." Rose gave Wince a hug. "And you can help us bury her after Wilson and the Tar Ponds City Police see if they can find anybody to lay charges against after all this time.

At the crossroad in my life, I didn't know which way to go. I just mindlessly choose a random direction... then, after regretting my decision I tried to retrace my steps. However, without even realizing it the sun had already set.

At the last minute, he broke the rule and he looked. He was so rapt in his view of the light at the end of the tunnel, he got excited, tuned up, he got crazy nervous and for a second he wavered in his confidence and he looked! To confirm or affirm or just firm up,’ students laughing ‘his manly love for her and in that motion of divine stupidity, he killed her dead forever with a glance. Hades ripped her back into his den and that was, proverbially, that.’ A girl across from me says bitterly, ‘No second, second chance for Orpheus.’ ‘He was fucked,’ D continues, nodding. ‘Not because the gods were heartless, but because he fucked up. The guilt of that. Can you imagine? Spent the rest of his pathetic days wallowing, lamenting, composing (or was it decomposing?) heartbreaking tunes upon his lyre, dissolving in grief and music and art, never being the least bit happy or lovable. The saddest sap of all. How do we tell a story like that without being sappy? Oh woe! How do we shape into lines our most harrowing mistakes and losses without drenching them in sticky poetic sap?

At the end of your life what you will regret the most is not the mistakes that you made – what you will regret the most are the things that you never tried.

A wise man will know what game to play to-day, and play it. We must not be governed by rigid rules, as by the almanac, but let the season rule us. The moods and thoughts of man are revolving just as steadily and incessantly as nature's. Nothing must be postponed. Take time by the forelock. Now or never! You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this, or the like of this. Where the good husbandman is, there is the good soil. Take any other course, and life will be a succession of regrets. Let us see vessels sailing prosperously before the wind, and not simply stranded barks. There is no world for the penitent and regretful.

A woman once held a Canary in the palm of her hand and stroked her and whispered a careful warning. The canary, seeking some freedom to fly, went into the mine while the woman watched in worry. The mine was filled with toxic gases and the Canary began to sing. She flew into danger, realized the threats around her, and wished to return to a place of refuge.

Bad days my memory functions no better than an out-of-focus kaleidoscope, but other days me recall is painfully perfect.

Banyak orang yang berharap dapat memutar kembali waktu karena penyesalan, sampai hanya itu yang tinggal di benak mereka. Sampai penyesalan menggerogoti jiwa mereka, sampai lama-kelamaan mereka mati bersamanya. Penyesalan, sama seperti hidup, sama seperti kenangan, adalah hal yang sangat mengerikan.

Bart ended our relationship with a shoddy email, void of the romantic twaddle he spouted several months before. Like a jilted teenager, once again I tried to find a small slice of regret in his words, a tiny piece of salvation to clutch on my way down, Alas, Bart left no soft place for my heart to land.

Because honor still matters. Honor is what echoes." His father's words. But they are as empty on his lips as they feel in my ears. This was has taken everything from him. I see in his eyes how broken he is. how terribly hard he is trying to be his father's son. If he could, he would choose to be back by the campfire we made in the highlands of the Institute. He would return to the days of glory when life was simple, when friends seemed true. But wishing for the past doesn't clean the blood from either of our hands.

Because any guilt the size of a speck of dust, or shame, can crush even the best of men, in mountains of weight

Beauty like hers had no place in his life.

Because the one who wishes it – isn’t the one who, still untouched by the future, stands at the crossroads. Instead, it is the one marked by the future become past who wants to go back to the past, to revoke the irrevocable. And would he want to revoke it if he hadn’t suffered it?

Believe in Yourself Why must we see something to believe in its existence?The wind itself cannot be seen by man, but all have felt it's gentle touch and watched the mighty trees bow as it swept past. We cannot see love yet its nurturing warmth is the essence of our being and sorrow can touch our very soul. For remorse is like a ripple on the ocean, once given it remains only in the heart of the receiver. Yet all of these cannot be seen only felt. Why then do you doubt your self-worth? For though it cannot cast a reflection in the mirror you have only to look in the eyes of those you love to See it clearly. Prologue To Kiss a King To Kiss a King Copyright © 2017 by Julie Brookshier and Robin Woods All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in whole or in part in any form is forbidden without written permission of one or more of the authors. This is a fictional work. Names, characters, places, and events are merely the product of the authors' imaginations or used fictitiously, purely for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead or any business establishments, events or places past, present, or future, is entirely coincidental.

Before you make a decision, ask yourself this question: will it result in regret or joy in the future?

Before you make a decision, ask yourself this question: will you regret the results or rejoice in them?

Beneath your burdensome regrets and who you think you are through the lens of past mistakes, there is someone beautiful who wants to emerge.

Besnik, tash dij diçka, që shumëkush nuk e din. Na jemi fajtorë që femnat janë ma t'ulta në sytë tanë. Tash e dij... ato qenkan si mashkujt, bile po mundkan me qenë ma burrnesha se shumë mashkuj, që e quejnë veten burra. Ti je dëshmi e gjallë. Prandaj, Besnik, mos hesht! Mos mshel gojën! Thueju të gjithëve! Thueju të gjithëve se nderi i femnës nuk mbahet me çarrshafa e peçe!

Be who you are, don’t be a pretender, if you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember.

Better my right hand should have been cut off. Go know I was setting in motion events that would lead to the ruin of one of the few truly good men I ever met.

Better to say nothing at all, rather than something you'll regret.

If There Be Sorrow If there be sorrow let it be for things undone undreamed unrealized unattained to these add one: Love withheld ... restrained

Black road wove ahead of me, Drizzling rain fell, To accompany me Someone asked for a spell. I agreed, but I forgot To see him in light of day, And then it was strange To remember the way. Like incense of thousand censers Flowed the fog And the companion bothered The heart with a song. Ancient gates I remember And the end of the way -- There the man who went with me "Forgive," did say. He gave me a copper cross Like my brother very own And everywhere I hear the sound Of the steppe song. Here I am at home like home -- I cry and I am in rue Answer to me, my stranger, I am looking for you!

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

BLESSINGS ARE IMMEASURABLE You can Lose a child Or a parent, The love of your life, A good job, A game, A deal, A bet, An idea, Your favorite thing, Money, Your best friend, A moment, An opportunity, A chance, Your keys, Your mind, Your health, Your identity, Your virginity, Your religion, Your shirt, Your license, ID or Passport, Phone or phone number, Hope, Faith, Luck, Your pride, Or your house, And feel like You've lost everything, And keep on losing. Stop Counting losses And start counting your blessings. Only then, Will you discover that losses Are easier to point out And count Than blessings, And that blessings Outnumber your losses For they are truly Immeasurable. It is only normal that People count losses with Their minds, And ignore To count blessings With the graciousness Of their hearts.

But as Max tugged him out the door a different feeling stole over him, something strange, behind the regret, deeper than the mourning. It wasn't until much later that he was able to identify it. Excitment.

But as Rianne walked away from him, he could only stand there and watch, tearing at the earth with restless claws. Wishing with all his heart that he could go after her. Eiona’s presence kept him locked in place and for the first time, he found himself resenting the bond that held them so tightly together.

But for her there was no possibility of a clear conscience, merely the weak absolution of honesty, of confession. She could not buy into the cycle of sin and penance. She would always remember what she had done, and it would always sting. She would not be washed clean.

But it's not easy, realising how we fucked it all up. And that turns out to be the hardest thing to live with, not the regret or the fear, but the realisation that the edge is so close to where we live.

But harboring regrets is making love to the past, and there is no movement here.

But it's more than a scratch it's a slap in the face and a knife in the back, it's a punch in the stomach because you'd rather believe some made up rumor than what you knew to be true. So tell me Jessica, did you drag yourself to my funeral? And what about you-the rest of you- did you drag yourself to my funeral, and if you did, did you see the scars you left? No, probably not because most of them can't been seen with the naked eye.

But now it’s too late. And that’s why, right at this moment, I feel so much hate. Toward myself. I deserve to be on this list. Because if I hadn’t been so afraid of everyone else, I might have told Hannah that someone cared. And Hannah might still be alive. I pull my gaze back from the neon sign.

But of, but what, but whether, but who, but nevertheless, but insofar, but why, but otherwise, but even if-

But those who forget the past, neglect the present, and fear for the future have a life that is very brief and troubled; when they have reached the end of it, the poor wretches perceive too late that for such a long while they have been busied in doing nothing.

But the thing about the truth was that once you learned it, it became impossible to unlearn.

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.

But what if, after one small change, her life would become much worse than it was? Or unthinkable disasters result from a single step off her path?