I've never regretted anything I've done, even the things that I've failed at. I've often regretted not trying something really big, because you'll never know.
I never regretted turning down anything, I never regretted losing a job because I always felt something else was out there.
I regret things all the time. I've never regretted not saying something. I've only regretted saying something.
Many times in life I've regretted the things I've said without thinking. But I've never regretted the things I said nearly as much as the words I left unspoken.
I've never regretted anything I've ever done.
When I was 16 years old, my brother Frank said, 'You'd better become a catcher, because you're too big and fat to do anything else.' Well, I took his advice. It was a quick way to get to the big leagues, and I've never regretted it.
I have never regretted my silence. As for my speech, I have regretted it over and over again.
I’ve learned in a hundred ways that I rarely regretted acting but often regretted NOT acting fast enough.
I have often regretted what I have eaten, but never what I have drunk.
I have often regretted my speech, never my silence.
I've never regretted saying no to anything, or finishing something. When I'm in the middle of doing something I love, I can have a better idea, and I'll go, "Oh God, I can't finish this." Maybe I've got some sort of disorder.
I've never made something I've regretted
I have never met an old saint who regretted having spent too much time in prayer, but I have met many who regretted having spent too little!
Are you a man?'' The question slipped out, and she regretted it. Regretted injecting reality into this delicate, lovely dream of passion. ''I thought I had conclusively proved my manhood to you. Shall I do it again?
It was a deliberate policy not to invite Hello!' into my home. I could have done that stuff and made a lot of money, but I've never regretted not doing it.
I've always regretted that I never was able to talk openly with my parents, especially with my father. I've heard and read so many things about my family that I can no longer believe anything; every relative I question has a completely different story from the last.
That day, I began to be incredulous. Or, rather, I regretted having been credulous. I regretted having allowed myself to be borne away by a passion of the mind. Such is credulity.