regret

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.

HlI watch Ethan try to connect the dots in his head, And suddenly his face falls into a sad smile."Oh," he says. And that's all.I walk over to him, my bare feet sinking into the sand as I trudge along. He's grinning at me now, but it's not the usual plastered-on smile he usually has. This one is somehow more authentic.When I'm within a few feet of him, he holds his arms out."You're going to be such a good leader," he says. "I'm so proud of you, Five."I embrace Ethan. His arms fold around me as he pats me on the back. He lets out a long, slow sigh and then starts to say something. I cut him off before he can get the words out. I can't stand to hear him say another thing."Ethan, I'm really sorry about this. But it's for the best."I can feel his body clench as the blade slips out of my forearm sheath and into his back. It slides between his ribs-a lucky shot- then retracts back into my hoodie sleeve. It's over in an instant. I step away from him. He stands frozen, probably in shock. There's a deep spot of read blooming across the right side of his chest where the blade must have broken the skin. Blood drops down from the hidden wrist sheath, running over my right hand before falling from my fingertips to the sand."It's over," I murmur, more to myself than to Ethan. He's probably not paying much attention to what I have to say. Tears are welling in his good eye, but I don't know if they're for me or for himself. He blinks once and then falls to the beach with a soft thud.

One faerie - and then we were free. Just on more swing of my arm. And maybe one more after that - maybe one more swing, up and inward and into my own heart.

Sometimes, I feel able to write lines about my life and about how I do feel everyday in such a huge book, but sometimes I either prefer to write one word that describe it or just to say nothing at all.

And she knew that this was the thing that would harm Dionne in the end, not her foolishness but the foolhardy way in which she clung to her own terrible ideas. She knew that this was Avril's undoing, not that she'd made the wrong choices, but that she'd been so unwilling to let anyone in to see the lie of her marriage, this masking was worse than the original mistake. Sixty-three years on this earth has taught Hyacinth that it wasn't so much the mistakes that people made but how flexible they were in the aftermath that made all the difference in how their lives turned out. It was the women who held too tightly to the dream of their husband's fidelity who unraveled, the parents who clasped their children too close who lost them, the me who grieved too deeply the lives they'd wanted and would never have who saw their sadness consume them. Hyacinth worried about Dionne because of her hard way of being in the world, the way she could only see the world through the lens of her own flawed feelings.

Somehow, the more I get older, and the more I see of people and sadness and illness and everything, the sorrier I get for everyone.

A life premised upon honest effort and questing for love is bound to generate regret and remorse.

Regret comes in four tones that operate in unison to shape our lives. First, we regret the life that we lived, the decisions we made, the words we said in anger, and enduring the shame wrought from experiencing painful failures in work and love. Secondly, we regret the life we did not live, the opportunities missed, the adventures postponed indefinitely, and the failure to become someone else other than whom we now are. American author Shannon L. Alder said, __ne of the greatest regrets in life is being what others would want you to be, rather than being yourself._ Third, we regret that parts of our life are over; we hang onto nostalgic feelings for the past. When we were young and happy, everything was new, and we had not yet encountered hardship. As we age and encounter painful setbacks, we experience disillusionment and can no longer envision a joyous future. Fourth, we experience bitterness because the world did not prove to be what we hoped or expected it would be.

If everything happens for a reason that means you made the right choice even when it__ the wrong choice

Live Everyday with No Regrets, So you don't Regret it One day.

Pressing my head to his heart, I listened hard, straining to hear any gurgle or murmur of life. Hearing nothing, I felt the shock settle into my mind, slowing it down and then turning it off."Don't leave me, Noah. Please, don't go," I whispered into the darkness as the light spray of rain touched my face.If only I could turn back time.I would tell him yes.

And then the queen wept with all her heart. Not for the cruel and greedy man who had warred and killed and savaged everywhere he could. But for the boy who had somehow turned into that man, the boy whose gentle hand had comforted her childhood hurts, the boy whose frightened voice had cried out to her at the end of his life, as if he wondered why he had gotten lost inside himself, as if he realized that it was too, too late to get out again.

Robert had taught him to keep his thoughts in the present or near future, for as Robert had told him, To dwell in the past is to live in regret.

Diggy wished he could cut sentences out of his head the way he could cut them out of a book, then cut them in half and word by word and letter by letter until they were bits of nothing that drifted from the scissors' edges, gravity not even interested enough to pull them down.

...and then I began to drift, fighting tears. I used to come here with Miriam. Miriam, my heart's desire. What was troubling her this morning? Maybe Kate had reproached her on the phone for leaving me? How dare Kate. Oh yeah? Go for it, my darling. Remind her of what she's missing. No, don't.

If I had known what trouble you were bearing;What griefs were in the silence of your face;I would have been more gentle, and more caring,And tried to give you gladness for a space.I would have brought more warmth into the place,If I had known.If I had known what thoughts despairing drew you;(Why do we never try to understand?)I would have lent a little friendship to you,And slipped my hand within your hand,And made your stay more pleasant in the land,If I had known.

Why did I think that this improvisation could never end? If I had seen that it could, what would I have done differently? What would he?

Have I thought long to see this morning__ face,And doth it give me such a sight as this?