"I don't spend a lot of time thinking about regrets because there's nothing I can do"
About this Quote
Sheryl Crow’s line has the casual bluntness of someone who’s toured hard, lived publicly, and learned the unglamorous skill of moving on. “I don’t spend a lot of time” is the tell: she’s not claiming enlightenment, just a practical budget. Regret isn’t framed as moral reckoning or romantic melancholy; it’s a time sink. That phrasing sounds like a musician’s life, where yesterday’s missed note gets swallowed by tonight’s set list.
The second clause, “because there’s nothing I can do,” isn’t nihilism so much as triage. It quietly separates useful reflection from emotional self-harm. Crow doesn’t deny mistakes or pain; she denies regret’s promise that replaying the past will rewrite it. The intent feels protective: a boundary against the kind of rumination that feeds anxiety, addiction, or the tabloid narrative that women in pop are supposed to perform - the repentant arc, the confessional catharsis, the public penance.
There’s also an American self-reliance note here, but softened by weariness rather than swagger. Coming from an artist whose catalog trades in resilience and hard-earned clarity, the quote reads like a lyric stripped to its spine: focus on the next verse. In a culture that monetizes remorse - apology tours, redemption branding, endless “accountability” content - Crow’s refusal is a small act of autonomy. She’s choosing forward motion over the addictive fantasy of control.
The second clause, “because there’s nothing I can do,” isn’t nihilism so much as triage. It quietly separates useful reflection from emotional self-harm. Crow doesn’t deny mistakes or pain; she denies regret’s promise that replaying the past will rewrite it. The intent feels protective: a boundary against the kind of rumination that feeds anxiety, addiction, or the tabloid narrative that women in pop are supposed to perform - the repentant arc, the confessional catharsis, the public penance.
There’s also an American self-reliance note here, but softened by weariness rather than swagger. Coming from an artist whose catalog trades in resilience and hard-earned clarity, the quote reads like a lyric stripped to its spine: focus on the next verse. In a culture that monetizes remorse - apology tours, redemption branding, endless “accountability” content - Crow’s refusal is a small act of autonomy. She’s choosing forward motion over the addictive fantasy of control.
Quote Details
| Topic | Letting Go |
|---|
More Quotes by Sheryl
Add to List







