- Regret strongly
Derived forms: bemoaned, bemoaning, bemoans
- John Flanagan – Who’s this?” he said, coming across a name he didn’t recognize. “Lady Georgina of Sandalhurst? Why are we inviting her? I don’t know her. Why are we asking people we don’t know?”I know her,” Pauline replied. There was a certain steeliness in her voice that Halt would have done well to recognize. “She’s my aunt, Bit of an old stick, really, but I have to invite her.”You’ve never mentioned her before,” Halt challenged.True. I don’t like her very much. As I said, she’s a bit of an old stick.”Then why are we inviting her?”We’re inviting her,” Lady Pauline explained, “because Aunt Georgina has spent the last twenty years bemoaning the fact that I was unmarried. ‘Poor Pauline!’ she’d cry to anyone who’d listen. ‘She’ll be a lonely old maid! Married to her job! She’ll never find a husband to look after her!’ It’s just too good an opportunity to miss.”Halt’s eyebrows came together in a frown. There might be a few things that would annoy him more than someone criticizing the woman he loved, but for a moment, he couldn’t think of one.Agreed,” he said. “And let’s sit her with the most boring people possible at the wedding feast.”Good thinking,” Lady Pauline said. She made a note on another sheet of paper. “I’ll make her the first person on the Bores’ table.”The Bores’ table?” Halt said. “I’m not sure I’ve heard that term.”Every wedding has to have a Bores’ table,” his fiance explained patiently. “We take all the boring, annoying, bombastic people and sit them together. That way they all bore each other and they don’t bother the normal people we’ve asked.”Wouldn’t it be simpler to just ask the people you like?” Halt asked. “Except Aunt Georgina, of course–there’s a good reason to ask her. But why ask others?”It’s a family thing,” Lady Pauline said, adding a second and third name to the Bores’ table as she thought of them. “You have to ask family and every family has its share of annoying bores. It’s just organizing a wedding.
- Louis de Bernières – So many nominal Christians throughout history, took no notice whatsoever of the key parable of Jesus Christ himself, which taught that you shall love your neighbour as you love yourself, and even those that you have despised and hated are your neighbours. This never made any difference to Christians, since the primary epiphenomena of any religion’s foundation are the production and flourishment of hypocrisy, megalomania and psychopathy, and the first casualties of a religion’s establishment are the intensions of its founders. One can imagine Jesus and Mohammed glumly comparing notes in paradise, scratching their heads and bemoaning their vain expense of effort and suffering, which resulted only in the construction of two monumental whited sepulchres.
- Richard Paul Evans – We can spend our days bemoaning our losses, or we can grow from them. Ultimately the choice is ours. We can be victims of circumstance or masters of our own fate, but make no mistake, we cannot be both.The Walk – Epilogue Page 288
- Jennifer Ouellette – I think scientists have a valid point when they bemoan the fact that it’s socially acceptable in our culture to be utterly ignorant of math, whereas it is a shameful thing to be illiterate.
- Macrina Wiederkehr – All too often we bemoan our imperfections rather than embrace them as part of the process in which we are brought to God. Cherished emptiness gives God space in which to work. We are pure capacity for God. Let us not, then, take our littleness lightly. It is a wonderful grace. It is a gift to receive. At the same time, let us not get trapped in the confines of our littleness, but keep pushing on to claim our greatness. Remind yourself often, “I am pure capacity for God; I can be more.
- Emily St. John Mandel – We bemoaned the impersonality of the modern world, but that was a lie, it seemed to him; it had never been impersonal at all. There had always been a massive delicate infrastructure of people, all of them working unnoticed around us, and when people stop going to work, the entire operation grinds to a halt.
- Katherine Boo – In Delhi, politicians and intellectuals privately bemoaned the “irrationality” of the uneducated Indian masses, but when the government itself provided false answers to its citizens’ urgent concerns, rumor and conspiracy took wing. Sometimes, the conspiracies became a consolation for loss.
- Amy Poehler – I know how good I am at bemoaning my process and pretending I don’t care so that my final product will seem totally natural and part of my essence and not something I sweated for months and years.
- Sergio de la Pava – Look, people need to conform the external reality they face daily with this subjective feeling they likewise experience constantly. To do this they have two options. First, they can achieve what passes for great things. Now the external reality matches their feeling; they really are better than the rest and maybe they’ll even be remembered as such. These are the ambitious people, the overachievers. These are also, however, the people who go on these abominable talk shows where they can trade their psychoses for exposure on that box, modernity’s ultimate achievement. Not that this tact, being ambitious, is not the preferred course of action. The reason is it’s the equivalent of sticking your neck out which we all know is dangerous. Instead many act like they have no ambition whatsoever. Their necks come back in and they’re safe. Only problem is now they’re at everyone else’s level, which we’ve seen is untenable. The remedy of course is that everyone else needs to be sunk. This helps explain racism’s enduring popularity. If I myself don’t appear to be markedly superior to everyone else at least I’m part of the better race, country, religion et cetera. This in turn reflects well on my individual worth. There are other options, of course. For example, you can constantly bemoan others’ lack of moral worth by extension elevating yourself. Think of the average person’s reaction to our clients. Do these people strike you as so truly righteous that they are viscerally pained by our clients’ misdeeds or are they similarly flawed people looking for anything to hang their hat on? The latter obviously, they’re vermin.
- Charlotte McPherren – Willow gazed up at him, her silly grin still in place. “You know wha’? You’re kinda cute when you crook your eyebrows down like tha’.”Rider muttered a curse, lifted her off the floor, and tossed her over his shoulder. “Juan, you and Hicks help Mrs. Brigham to her room. I’ll take care of this little hellion.”Willow lifted her head from where she dangled over Rider’s shoulder. “See yuh later, Mrs. B.”Miriam smiled and waved.”i think Mrs. B is pickled,” Rider’s passenger said in a loud whisper as he hauled her out the door.”No thanks to you,hellion,” he growled, and smacked her bottom.”Ow!”As he carried Willow into the house, Rider was hard pressed to quell a sudden urge to laugh. In her bedroom, he unceremoniously dumped her on her bed, but when he turned to leave, her pitiful sounding voice halted his exit. “Rider,come here a min-it.””Oh,hell, I suppose you’re going to be sick.” Grabbing a basin off her dresser, he shoved it under her chin. “It serves you right, you know.” He watched nervously as she knocked the bowl aside.”Dun…don’t be mad.” She held her arms out to him. “Come closer. Gimme a kiss and we’ll make up. I like your kisses so-o-o-o much.”This time Rider couldn’t stall his grin and inadvertently leaned closer.She was on him like a duck on a June bug. With two hearty handfuls of his shirt, she yanked him down on top of her and plastered her mouth against his.Talking against his lips, the tipsy girl had the audacity to complain, “Not like this. Do it like before. You know, with your tongue.”Rider squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. This isn’t fair, he bemoaned silently. He tried to rise but Willow held tight, squirming her voluptuous little body against his. Sweat broke out on his forehead. If he didn’t put a stop to this soon, he lifted his mouth from hers. “If I promise to kiss you with my tongue, will you let go of me and go to sleep?””Uh-huh.” Willow’s eyes drooped, but the affect appeared more seductive than drunken.Lifting her shoulders slightly off the bed, he wound his arms around her and covered her mouth with his. His tongue explored hers in a long, liquid kiss, tasting of wine and desire. Rider savored its promise, wishing just this once, he could be less a gentleman.Willow wrapped one of her legs over his and shifted her hips, innocently aligning his swelling heat with hers. He started and bolted off the bed. “Holy hell! You did it again!””What?” Her voice was sluggish and sleepy now.Disgusted with himself, Rider stomped to the door. “Sleep it off, Freckles.”Outside Willow’s door, Rider slumped against the wall and shook his head. Willow Vaughn was a constant surprise, and he loved the girl so bad it hurt.
- Jeevan found himself thinking about how human the city is, how human everything is. We bemoaned the impersonality of the modern world, but that was a lie, it seemed to him; it had never been impersonal at all. There had always been a massive delicate infrastructure of people, all of them working unnoticed around us, and when people stop going to work, the entire operation grinds to a halt. No one delivers fuel to the gas stations or the airports. Cars are stranded. Airplanes cannot fly. Trucks remain at their points of origin. Food never reaches the cities; grocery stores close. Businesses are locked and then looted. No one comes to work at the power plants or the substations, no one removes fallen trees from electrical lines. Jeevan was standing by the window when the lights went out.
- When you aren’t drinking or using drugs or spending lots of money on fancy toys or basking in the glow of fame or working all the time or eating your way through the refrigerator, being hateful and angry is a very handy shield from the truth. It lets you focus on everyone else’s shortcomings, and all the ways they have let you down. You can bemoan how all these broken people keep finding you somehow. That way you don’t have to focus on what really matters — the tough work of fiing what is broken inside you.
- Unless you write yourself, you can’t know how wonderful it is; I always used to bemoan the fact that I couldn’t draw, but now I’m overjoyed that at least I can write. And if I don’t have the talent to write books or newspaper articles, I can always write for myself. But I want to achieve more than that.
- Don’t bemoan your misspent life quite yet. Forgive me for flaunting my experience, but you have no conception of what a misspent life constitutes.
- My writing was all about you; all I did there, after all, was to bemoan what I could not bemoan upon your breast.
- People fight over parking spaces more than they do for each other; then they bemoan the fact they can’t find love.
- Arther, what is first on the agenda?” “The same as ever, Highness. Elections, land, and entitlements.” Arther had learned to mask much of his distaste at that last word, but his lips still puckered as if it soured his tongue. Entitlements. Leesha hated the word, too, but not for the same reason as Arther. It was a cold word, used by those with full bellies to bemoan feeding those without.
- No parent should have to bury a child. No mother should have to bury a son. Mothers are not meant to bury sons. It is not in the natural order of things.I buried my son. In a potter’s field. In a field of Blood. In empty, acrid silence. There was no funeral. There were no mourners. His friends all absent. His father dead. His sisters refusing to attend. I discovered his body alone, I dug his grave alone, I placed him in a hole, and covered him with dirt and rock alone. I was not able to finish burying him before sundown, and I’m not sure if that affected his fate. I begrudge God none of this. I do not curse him or bemoan my lot. And though my heart keeps beating only to keep breaking–I do not question why.I remember the morning my son was born as if it was yesterday. The moment the midwife placed him in my arms, I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. I remember holding my son, and looking over at my own mother and saying, “Now I understand why the sun comes up at day and the stars come out at night. I understand why rain falls gently. Now I understand you, Mother” I loved my son every day of his life, and I will love him ferociously long after I’ve stopped breathing. I am a simple woman. I am not bright or learn-ed. I do not read. I do not write. My opinions are not solicited. My voice is not important. On the day of my son’s birth I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. The world tells me that God is in Heaven and that my son is in Hell. I tell the world the one true thing I know: If my son is in Hell, then there is no Heaven–because if my son sits in Hell, there is no God.
- In each of us there is internal knowledge, a gentle voice, beckoning us toward well-being. It tells us to let go, to stay in the river of present experience, not to dam up our lives by worrying about potential futures or bemoaning past mistakes.
- It is true I little respect women or girls who are loquacious either in boasting the triumphs, or bemoaning the mortifications, of feelings.
- Be satisfied with your part. Do not bemoan your fate. In this life everyone has troubles which he thinks nobody else has. Never wish to be in the shoes of someone else who you think is better off than you are. It is best to wish for nothing, but to ask the Lord to give you what is for your highest good. You are a part of the Lord’s creation: He needs everybody to carry on this drama. Never compare yourself with anybody else. You are what you are. Nobody is like you. Nobody can act your part as you can. Similarly, you should not try to play somebody else’s part. What is important is to do the will of Him who sent you; that is what you want. While you do your part, think all the time that God is working through you
- When Benjamin Bloom studied his 120 world-class concert pianists, sculptors, swimmers, tennis players, mathematicians, and research neurologists, he found something fascinating. For most of them, their first teachers were incredibly warm and accepting. Not that they set low standards. Not at all, but they created an atmosphere of trust, not judgment. It was, “I’m going to teach you,” not “I’m going to judge your talent.” As you look at what Collins and Esquith demanded of their students—all their students—it’s almost shocking. When Collins expanded her school to include young children, she required that every four-year-old who started in September be reading by Christmas. And they all were. The three- and four-year-olds used a vocabulary book titled Vocabulary for the High School Student. The seven-year-olds were reading The Wall Street Journal. For older children, a discussion of Plato’s Republic led to discussions of de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, Orwell’s Animal Farm, Machiavelli, and the Chicago city council. Her reading list for the late-grade-school children included The Complete Plays of Anton Chekhov, Physics Through Experiment, and The Canterbury Tales. Oh, and always Shakespeare. Even the boys who picked their teeth with switchblades, she says, loved Shakespeare and always begged for more. Yet Collins maintained an extremely nurturing atmosphere. A very strict and disciplined one, but a loving one. Realizing that her students were coming from teachers who made a career of telling them what was wrong with them, she quickly made known her complete commitment to them as her students and as people. Esquith bemoans the lowering of standards. Recently, he tells us, his school celebrated reading scores that were twenty points below the national average. Why? Because they were a point or two higher than the year before. “Maybe it’s important to look for the good and be optimistic,” he says, “but delusion is not the answer. Those who celebrate failure will not be around to help today’s students celebrate their jobs flipping burgers. Someone has to tell children if they are behind, and lay out a plan of attack to help them catch up.” All of his fifth graders master a reading list that includes Of Mice and Men, Native Son, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, The Joy Luck Club, The Diary of Anne Frank, To Kill a Mockingbird, and A Separate Peace. Every one of his sixth graders passes an algebra final that would reduce most eighth and ninth graders to tears. But again, all is achieved in an atmosphere of affection and deep personal commitment to every student. “Challenge and nurture” describes DeLay’s approach, too. One of her former students expresses it this way: “That is part of Miss DeLay’s genius—to put people in the frame of mind where they can do their best. Very few teachers can actually get you to your ultimate potential. Miss DeLay has that gift. She challenges you at the same time that you feel you are being nurtured.
- Our first youth is of no value; for we are never conscious of it, until after it is gone. But sometimes–always, I suspect, unless one is exceedingly unfortunate–there comes a sense of second youth, gushing out of the heart’s joy at being in love; or possibly, it may come to crown some other grand festival in life, if any other such there be. This bemoaning of one’s self. Over the first, careless, shallow gayety of youth departed, and this profound happiness at youth regained, so much deeper and richer than that we lost, are essential to the soul’s development. In some cases, the two states come almost simultaneously, and mingle the sadness and the rapture in one mysterious emotion.
- Somewhere along the line the American love affair with wilderness changed from the thoughtful, sensitive isolationism of Thoreau to the bully, manly, outdoorsman bravado of Teddy Roosevelt. It is not for me, as an outsider, either to bemoan or celebrate this fact, only to observe it. Deep in the male American psyche is a love affair with the backwoods, log-cabin, camping-out life.There is no living creature here that cannot, in its right season, be hunted or trapped. Deer, moose, bear, squirrel, partridge, beaver, otter, possum, raccoon, you name it, there’s someone killing one right now. When I say hunted, I mean, of course, shot at with a high-velocity rifle. I have no particular brief for killing animals with dogs or falcons, but when I hear the word ‘hunt’ I think of something more than a man in a forage cap and tartan shirt armed with a powerful carbine. In America it is different. Hunting means ‘man bonding with man, man bonding with son, man bonding with pickup truck, man bonding with wood cabin, man bonding with rifle, man bonding above all with plaid’.
- Joss laughed and looked up into Braden’s face. ‘Apparently the dress is good.’‘I’m getting that,’ he murmured. ‘Still, I’m more looking forward to taking it off you than anything else that day.’‘Braden,’ Ellie bemoaned, ‘not in front of me.’‘Stop kissing Adam in front of me and I’ll stop making sexual comments to my wife in front of you.’‘She’s not your wife yet,’ Nate reminded him. ‘No need to rush it.’I snorted. ‘Nate, your commitment phobia is showing again.’He turned to me in mock horror. ‘Where?’ He patted his cheeks anxiously. ‘Get it off me.’Brushing my thumb across an imaginary speck on his cheekbone, I reassured him. ‘There it is. All gone.’‘Phew.’ He took a swig of his lager and looked toward the bar. ‘I’ll never get laid with that thing on show.’‘Charming,’ I murmured.
- While, naturally, he has to gauge risk, to read the elements, he still often bemoans the hardships of the past. He constantly puzzles over the role of remote influences, like the after-life. He wants to know why events happen as they do, how control is exercised from beyond understanding.
- Thus openness and surrendering are the necessary preparation for working with a spiritual friend. We acknowledge our fundamental richness rather than bemoan the imagined poverty of our being. We know we are worthy to receive the teachings, worthy of relating ourselves to the wealth of the opportunities for learning.
- It serves the American socialists as a leading argument in their endeavor to depict American capitalism as a curse of mankind. Reluctantly forced to admit that capitalism pours a horn of plenty upon people and that the Marxian prediction of the masses’ progressive impoverishment has been spectacularly disproved by the facts, they try to salvage their detraction of capitalism by describing contemporary civilization as merely materialistic and sham.Bitter attacks upon modem civilization are launched by writers who think that they are pleading the cause of religion. They reprimand our age for its secularism.They bemoan the passing of a way of life in which, they would have us believe, people were not preoccupied with the pursuit of earthly ambitions but were first of ali concerned about the strict observance of their religious duties. They ascribe ali evils to the spread of skepticism and agnosticism and passionately advocate a return to the orthodoxy of ages gone by.It is hard to find a doctrine which distorts history more radically than this antisecularism. There have always been devout men, pure in heart and dedicated to a pious life. But the religiousness of these sincere believers had nothing in common with the established system of devotion. It is a myth that the political and social institutions of the ages preceding modem individualistic philosophy and modem capitalism were imbued with a genuine Christian spirit. The teachings of the Gospels did not determine the official attitude of the governments toward religion. It was, on the contrary, thisworldly concems of the secular rulers—absolute kings and aristocratic oligarchies, but occasionally also revolting peasants and urban mobs—that transformed religion into an instrument of profane political ambitions.Nothing could be less compatible with true religion than the ruthless persecution of dissenters and the horrors of religious crusades and wars. No historian ever denied that very little of the spirit of Christ was to be found in the churches of the sixteenth century which were criticized by the theologians of the Reformation and in those of the eighteenth century which the philosophers of the Enlightenment attacked.The ideology of individualism and utilitarianism which inaugurated modern capitalism brought freedom also to the religious longings of man. It shattered the pretension of those in power to impose their own creed upon their subjects. Religion is no longer the observance of articles enforced by constables and executioners. It is what a man, guided by his conscience, spontaneously espouses as his own faith. Modern Western civilization is thisworldly. But it was precisely its secularism, its religious indifference, that gave rein to the renascence of genuine religious feeling. Those who worship today in a free country are not driven by the secular arm but by their conscience. In complying with the precepts of their persuasion, they are not intent upon avoiding punishment on the part of the earthly authorities but upon salvation and peace of mind.
- The Roman co-founder named Romulus Had hair that was pretty ridiculous: With head lice it teemed; This was not esteemed — His friends called him Homo pediculus. A coed, though very curvaceous And charming and socially gracious, Could not get a date ‘Cause college guys hate When gals are so darn furfuraceous. “Why is it that people don’t want us? This question continues to haunt us.” The warthogs bemoan Their being alone. “Or maybe we’re too xanthodontous?
- Are you talking about me?” Danny looked up from the pastry board, suspicion written clearly across his face.”Just bemoaning your tragic heterosexuality,” Win sighed, swinging his knives down on the prep station.”Oh,” Danny said, blinking. “Well. Sorry about that, but there’s not much I can do about it.”Win waved that away. “No big. I’m not that into workplace romance, myself.
- Those facts run counter to a well-established national media narrative — one often repeated by liberal groups and Democratic lawmakers who bemoan the influence of corporate cash in politics after the Supreme Court’s ruling in 2010 opened the flood gates to unlimited political spending — that says Republicans and their big business allies have been able to unduly influence elections with unfettered spending.
- Maria Sharapova was left to bemoan her erratic serving and a plethora of unforced errors as she opened her WTA Finals campaign with a painful loss to a resurgent Caroline Wozniacki in a marathon three-setter on Tuesday.
- The 65-year-old former Olympian started to bemoan the glam process she adopted when she stopped being Bruce. ‘I am forced to wear the makeup every day,’ the ex of Kris Jenner, 59, declared.
- Development experts from various quasi-governmental agencies and politicians who want to “improve the economy” always seem to bemoan the shortage of good deals to finance.
- Chris Evans has been called a ‘Ginger Clarkson replica’ by critics as they bemoan the lack of trademark Top Gear wit and say the show is too similar to last season.
- The charisma and audacity of wealthy characters in shows like Showtime’s “Billions” can win over even those who bemoan the greed of the financial industry.
- Brendan Rodgers was left to bemoan a series of penalty decisions which went against Liverpool as they were held to a -0 FA Cup quarter-final draw by Blackburn.
- Langraf used the TCA platform to bemoan the challenges of TV’s scripted series proliferation.
- As the London Underground turns 150, we look at reasons to bemoan its existence.
- When I had to learn English in school, at times I would bemoan all the irregularities and strange rules.