Word: regretful
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Planted Trees and The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski, the Polish journalist and author who was for decades the sole third-world correspondent for a Polish news agency. As it happened, I read too long from the former and had to forego the latter, which I regret. The passage I'd selected was the first thing I thought of after reading that Kapuscinski, 74, had died of cancer in Warsaw...
...life of a Middle East correspondent isn't all conflict and crisis. In fact - though I may regret letting my editors in on the secret - when there isn't a war, the living in Lebanon is pretty darn easy. Ski season opened here properly a few days ago with the first sunny weekend at Faraya Mazaar, Lebanon's most developed ski resort. And, as the saying goes, TIME was there...
...Gods, who could regret the cloning of the high street when you grew up with all that? Turn your nose up at cappuccinos, lattes, pain au raisins, proper muffins with proper fruit - even if you have to pay through the nose for it? (And let me tell you, all those stories you've heard about how expensive London is? They don't come close to the ghastly truth.) Shed a tear for the "genuinely local coffee shops"? Don't think so. Mine's a triple grande skim latte, and the only regret is that I had to wait until...
...Indeed, early word of the document last weekend brought howls from some groups that believe Iraq's government is offering big oil companies overly generous production-sharing deals, which it could regret when the war finally ends. The alternative would be heavy state control, along the lines of the two oil giants that border Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Iran. "What we are looking at is Iraq signing deals for next 20 years at a time when it is extremely weak and not fully sovereign," says Greg Muttitt, co-director of Platform, a watchdog organization in London that monitors...
From the start, it was clear that this was a party to which I shouldn't have been invited - and technically, I hadn't been. The invitation had gone out to TIME's publisher, who to his deep regret had been unable to go, leaving me to be drafted in his place. That's how I found myself in the hangar-sized Peacock Room of Tokyo's opulent Imperial Hotel, rubbing shoulders with the cream of Japan's corporate class. These were men - they were almost all men - who control companies worth billions of dollars. I control a checkbook that...