The advance of regret can be so gradual that it is impossible to say "yesterday I was happy, today I am not.

The Wilcoxes were not lacking in affection; they had it royally, but they did not know how to use it. It was the talent in the napkin, and, for a warm-hearted man, Charles had conveyed very little joy. As he watched his father shuffling up the road, he had a vague regret—a wish that something had been different somewhere—a wish (though he did not express it thus) that he had been taught to say 'I' in his youth.

Both times it was loneliness, and the night, and panic afterwards.

Too late... everything's always too late.