What I am mourning is perhaps not worth saving, but I regret its loss nevertheless.
Confirm remove?
What I am mourning is perhaps not worth saving, but I regret its loss nevertheless.
MY REGRETS ARE ABOUT THE PEOPLE I COULDN’T SAVE — Marines, soldiers, my buddies. I still feel their loss. I still ache for my failure to protect them.
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is pass'd away.
Filter search results by source, date, and more with our premium search tools.
I'm in mourning for my life.
One of the worst things about losing my mother at the age I did was how very much there was to regret.
I was wrong when I said that I did not regret the past. I do regret it; I weep for that past love which can never return. Who is to blame, I do not know. Love remains, but not the old love; its place remains, but it all wasted away and has lost all strength and substance; recollections are still left, and gratitude; but...
Loss is the cost of loving
I'm sorry for my inability to let unimportant things go, for my inability to hold on to the important things.
It's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss.
It is but sorrow to be wise when wisdom profits not.
Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much rather have been merry than wise.
"There is no point in keeping vengeance or stubbornness. These things" -he sighed- "these things I so regret in my life. Pride. Vanity. Why do we do the things we do?
Morrie Schwartz"
Have you ever happened, reader, to feel that subtle sorrow of parting with an unloved abode? The heart does not break, as it does in parting with dear objects. The humid gaze does not wander around holding back a tear, as if it wished to carry away in it a trembling reflection of the abandoned spot; but in the best corner of our hearts we feel pity for the things which we did not bring to life with our breath, which we hardly noticed and are now leaving forever. This already dead iventory will not be resurrected in one's memory..
One of the worst things about losing my mother at the age I did was how very much there was to regret. Small things that stung now: all the times I’d scorned her kindness by rolling my eyes or physically recoiled in response to her touch;
I knew it wasn't too important, but it made me sad anyway.