Best 2371 quotes in «regret quotes» category

Drugs may know how to numb a brain, but the past never forgets to resurface.

Each dark conjecture came and for a moment settled like a vulture on Bond's shoulder and croaked into his ear that he had been a blind fool.

each of us humans has a moment-if not many-in which we lapse. for some, the transgression involves sex. for others, simply doubt or a rage so all encompassing, it impels us to make irreversible decisions. but whatever the transgression is doesn't really matter. what matters is that lapsing is our fate. we humans are doomed to it. worse, it is our destiny to look back longingly, with nostalgia, at our world before we changed, at who we were Before. we can never forget. but we can never go back.

Emotionally Strong People ~ Complain a little less, Celebrate a little more; Think a little less, "Be" a little more; Cringe a little less, Play a little more; Judge a little less, Forgive a little more; Chase a little less, Cherish a little more; Fear a little less, Hope a little more; Regret a little less, Learn a little more; and Fret a little less, Smile a little more.

en çok temiz olmayı istediğim şu anda, en beterinden bir pisliğin içine düştüm sanki; gelecek için alabildiğine özgür ama bir o kadar da geçmişe zincirli.

Energy spent regretting a decision was best redirected toward addressing its consequences.

Enough regret can crush any man, living or dead.

Even if someone does something that brings bad to you,do something good for them and make them feel shy for what they have done to you

Even if you regret, it will not reverse what happened. Rethink, relearn and replan, so you will not repeat what happened.

... everyone regrets something, but you can't change the past. You've got to let go and make new memories until the old ones fade enough that they don't hold any power over you.

‎Every opportunity missed is an opportunity for regret

Every second wasted might have saved a life.

For, like desire, regret seeks not to be analysed but to be satisfied. When one begins to love, one spends one’s time, not in getting to know what one’s love really is, but in making it possible to meet next day. When one abandons love one seeks not to know one’s grief but to offer to her who is causing it that expression of it which seems to one the most moving. One says the things which one feels the need of saying, and which the other will not understand, one speaks for oneself alone. I wrote: 'I had thought that it would not be possible. Alas, I see now that it is not so difficult.' I said also: 'I shall probably not see you again;' I said it while I continued to avoid shewing a coldness which she might think affected, and the words, as I wrote them, made me weep because I felt that they expressed not what I should have liked to believe but what was probably going to happen.

Every step towards your dream today is a step away from your regret tomorrow.

Explanations are ghosts of guilt, shadows of sympathy, and I have no use for them.

Faith is the flame that eliminates all fear.

Finally a day will come when woken by the xylophone of sunthroughblinds you’ll realise that the beach was not the place where horses tore the sand to ribbon that the scent of him has lifted from the last of the sheets that he isn’t coming back that it hasn’t rained but the birds are pretending that it has so they can sing

For much of my life, I existed in a condition of regret, a regret that was contemporaneous with experience, and which sometimes preceded experience.

For the good that I would: I do not, but the evil which I would not, I do.

Everything since the beginning of time was working together to make my happiness possible: and then you. You walked into the audiovisual lab in your flannel shirt...and you fucked it up! You fucked everything up! Do you understand that? Because of you, the entire universe is ruined...forever!" --Kari, The Pavilion

Fear waters the weeds of regret.

Fool, there is no sense in trying to play that game with the past. Here is where we are today, and we can only make our moves from here.

Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other path, no other way, no day but today.

For my success I am immensely grateful to God, my parents, my family, my friends, my teachers and to the books I read.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been!

For også hun hadde hat sin historie, sin lille uregelmæssighet i sit liv (...)Siden sit ulykkelige forhold til en ung fremmed, en ren æventyrer ved navn Johan Nagel, en uanselig dværg, som hadde dukket op på hendes vei ifjor og gjort hende ganske forvirret, hadde fru Dagny hat sine dulgte sorger å trækkes med. Forholdet var ikke endt med at en hat sænkedes dypt og en pyntelig farvel hadde lydt, nei den vilde man var gåt på hodet i havet og hadde gjort ende på sig uten å si et ord.

For the young, there is nothing unattainable; a good thing desired with the whole force of a passionate will, and yet impossible, is to them not credible. Yet, by death, by illness, by poverty, or by the voice of duty, we must learn, each one of us, that the world was not made for us, and that, however beautiful may be the things we crave, Fate may nevertheless forbid them. It is the part of courage, when misfortune comes, to bear without regretting the ruin of our hopes, to turn away our thoughts from vain regrets. This degree of submission to power is not only just and right: it is the very gate of wisdom.

From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.

From a lover to a life, the one thing you'll never get back is a moment.

Fueled by rage at God, or whoever else came up with the preposterous concept of free will, Anaya turned more corners. My challenges were cruel to the core. With so many choices to make in life, the line was hair-thin between success and failure, having money or being broke, being loved or hated, alive or dead.

Geraldine keeps her eyes trained on him as she slowly reaches into her purse, wrapping her fingers around her gun. “…Callo, I’m so sorry that your life ended up this way,” she sighs as she gets out of her side of the car, her feet burning from the cold as her high heels sink into the fallen snow. “Aren’t you scared?” “I’m you, Geraldine… I fell into the same trap as you, anyway,” Callo answers. His large eyes are shining with tears, but he doesn’t seem afraid in the least. “…The dead don’t feel anything, you know… not even guilt or regret. So, what is there to be afraid of?

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.

Gabe's face flashed into my mind, and I knew that Asher and Gabe had both been right about my feelings. Gabe would do anything to save me, even put his life at risk for mine. He would do all that for a girl who'd never kissed him, or been brave enough to take a chance on him. Suddenly, I regretted that immensely.

God is the God of multiplication and a careless attitude toward the business of the kingdom bring regret to Him

Go take a shower, you smell like good sex and unnecessary regret.

Good...if you've done things you aren't proud of. It means you have a conscience.

Guilt at least has a purpose; it tells us we’ve violated some ethical code. Ditto for remorse. Those feelings are educational; they manufacture wisdom. But regret—regret is useless.

...grief is as much about regret for what you've never had as sadness for what you've lost.

Guilt and Regret always pulls one down. They have an impact like that of gravity. They heavy you like few tons of concrete, Therefore, Instead of growing, moving on and learning from your mistakes, You will wine and dine with Would Have's and Could Have's.

Grief, regret, pain, and of course anger. Another loss. And when you compare this one loss to the hundreds and maybe thousands that occur people stop thinking they matter. It does matter though. Every loss matters.

Had I done it sooner, perhaps he might have lived. He was a man of courage and good heart, a proud man. Now he is dead. I saved the signal to use in a worthy cause, and when I found one it was wasted.” “Wasted?” answered Fflewddur. “I think not. Since you did your best and didn’t begrudge using it, I shouldn’t call it wasted at all.

Happiness changes the way you see the world.

Happiness is pleasure without regret

Having regrets is proof of being alive.

Have the courage to rise from the challenges of life like a phoenix from the flames or you'll get lost in the ashes of despair, pain, and regret.

Have You Prayed” When the wind turns and asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed? I know three things. One: I’m never finished answering to the dead. Two: A man is four winds and three fires. And the four winds are his father’s voice, his mother’s voice . . . Or maybe he’s seven winds and ten fires. And the fires are seeing, hearing, touching, dreaming, thinking . . . Or is he the breath of God? When the wind turns traveler and asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed? I remember three things. One: A father’s love is milk and sugar, two-thirds worry, two-thirds grief, and what’s left over is trimmed and leavened to make the bread the dead and the living share. And patience? That’s to endure the terrible leavening and kneading. And wisdom? That’s my father’s face in sleep. When the wind asks, Have you prayed? I know it’s only me reminding myself a flower is one station between earth’s wish and earth’s rapture, and blood was fire, salt, and breath long before it quickened any wand or branch, any limb that woke speaking. It’s just me in the gowns of the wind, or my father through me, asking, Have you found your refuge yet? asking, Are you happy? Strange. A troubled father. A happy son. The wind with a voice. And me talking to no one.

He came through the door howling, an axe arched high over his head. His eyes danced in madness, stuck fast on the two of them kissing, caught in their embrace and unaware of him. For a moment they went on, oblivious, untouched by the madman soon to come. It was a bright bubble of illusion on the eve of utter and complete madness. She was the first to see. The image of her stepfather captured in Mateo’s eyes, the furious glee of the Nazi’s vengeance, sharp and mirrored in their emerald beauty. Soon those eyes were wide with terror and sorrow in a moment of unbidden regret caught at the end of such happiness.

He could not afford to indulge misery, to live in the past and stumble through life facing backwards.

He dressed quickly in silence, refusing her tissues. He shakily pulled a wad of uncounted notes from his wallet, abandoned them in the no man’s land between, and escaped in an indecent haste, leaving the shameful tableau in his wake.

Has there always been someone like me to bury the bodies, to have regrets, to carry on after everyone else was dead?