regret

This mournful and restless sound was a fit accompaniment to my meditations.

She knew this man's smile, his gentle ways of love, but not his godlike fury in the storm. She might snare him in a fragile net of music, love and flowers, but, at each departure, he would break forth without, it seemed to her, the least regret.

I don't know how many years it's been since I last slept with my husband. I was faithful, stupid and so awfully lonely that I'll gobble you up if you're nice to me. Or kill you because I can't bear it.

He was terribly conscious that he only had one life and with 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.

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.

I had that hole in me, that empty space. I could have lived my life with it, content enough. I wasn__ an unhappy man._.....................The tears came now. He watched them drip down her cheeks, wondered if she were even aware they leaked out of her. __he was part of my life. You are my life. If I have a regret, it__ that even for an instant you could think otherwise. Or that I allowed you to._-Roarke

In life you find pleasure. In life you find pain. Pain and pleasure is an example of the duality in life. Enjoy them both, they are part of the ride. The key is to not turn the pain into something else - regret.

The purest regret, no matter what, is thinking you didn't love enough.

...her own restless coveting of his love and the slow but sure ebullience of her desire for him; then the Nawab's martydom and her spiritual homelessness and physical loneliness; there was so much, so many portraits and landscapes, like the bright pages of an album of words and pictures. They filled her heart overflowing with the tangy, coppery taste of blood that flows from failure, and pricked her soul with nostalgia, for what was and what could have been. She had never thought that happy memories could come accompanied with so much regret, so much pain, so much repining, and discontent. If you plucked a rose without due care, its thorn pricked you to protest the thoughtlessness and the inconsiderateness you had displayed in taking away its crowning glory. Here, it was nothing else but the rose which was the thorn: its each and every petal was saturated with the scents of the past but it stung like the scorpion plant. But was it possible not to touch those memories? For their scents traveled in and out of your being like breath, and their colours were inside every blink of your eye.

Whatever it is that you want to do, do it today because you can handle the pain of trying hard now but you won__ be able to handle the pain of regret later.

It takes courage to let go of the past and all the mechanisms you have put in place, in order to ease your pain, regret and fear through avoiding responsibility for it.

The paint is drying, and time is dying. The pain is crying, lying on my back, trying to get back the time, to brushstrokes too fast, wet went dry and love went dull; now I live in a portrait I never painted.

MOTHER IS WATERI wish I couldShower your head with flowersAnd anoint your feet with my tears,For I know I have caused youSo much heartache, frustration and despair __hroughout my youthful years.I wish I could give youThe remainder of my lifeTo add to yours,Or simply eraseThe lines on your face,And mend all that has been torn.For next to God,You are the fireThat has given lightTo the flame in each of my eyes.You are the fountainThat nourished my growth,And from your chalice __ave me life.Without the wetness of your love,The fragrance of your water,Or the trickling sounds ofYour voice,I shall always feelthirsty.

Such is life. Sometimes we do not even want to know how much pain we cause others, for fear of spoiling our own petty pleasures. And when the time comes to face the consequences, it is too late to be sorry.

I think about all the people I wish could die instead of you.

I walk away,I walk away from the voices,the shouts,the disappointment. I walk away from my deceptions,my mistakes,my regrets.I walk away from all that I am supposed to be and all I cannot be.For all of it is a lie.

Jesse stirs again. This time his fingers twitch. As much as I want to see him open his eyes, I can__ be here for that. It__l make leaving him too hard. I turn toward the doorway and I__ outside in the main room of the ICU when I hear his weakened voice say, __inter?__ hurry back to the waiting area. Hopefully he__l think he dreamed me. Maybe he did. Sometimes I feel like I__ not even real anymore

If you simply ignored the feeling, you would never know what might happen, and in many ways that was worse than finding out in the first place. Because if you were wrong, you could go forward in your life without ever looking back over your shoulder and wondering what might have been.