Best 1210 quotes in «sorry quotes» category

Whatever the world thinks, he who hath not much meditated upon God, the human soul, and the summum bonum, may possibly make a thriving earthworm, but will most indubitably make a sorry patriot and a sorry statesman.

What happened to our friendship? I really think it's our obligation as friends to be brutally honest and be frank with them and say, 'Look, I'm sorry, but your baby is fking boring.'

What happened?” she breathed, staring at me. “I got hit in the face with a pie,” I said. Mags stopped, blinking. “You got...hit in the face with a pie,” she repeated. “I...what? I’m sorry, but I’ve been in charge of this Library for a long time. I’ve seen a lot of really ridiculous things. I lived in Wales. And there is no way being hit with a pie should have turned you human.” “It was a really evil pie,” I said.

What I’m sorry about is not being a tipsy idiot when you found me. I’m sorry about that, obviously, but more sorry that my stupidity caused us to lose a great opportunity. I don’t imagine you would have met me and fallen crazy in love with me, but I would like to think that if you’d had a chance to meet me under different circumstances, something just as nice could have happened. We could have become friends.

What is it? Nothing. I had a bad dream. What did you dream about? Nothing. Are you okay? No. He put his arms around him and held him. It's okay, he said. I was crying. But you didnt wake up. I'm sorry. I was just so tired. I meant in the dream.

What was that?" Jace said. "Sorry, I think I fell asleep for a moment. Do, continue with whatever mesmerizing thing you were saying.

What? What am I 'bound to be feeling?' People don’t think anymore. They feel. 'How are you feeling? No, I don’t feel comfortable. I’m sorry, we as a group we’re feeling….' One of the great problems of our age is that we are governed by people who care more about feelings than they do about thoughts and ideas. Thoughts and ideas. That interests me. Ask me what I’m thinking.

What would the world be like if people said whatever they were thinking, all the time, whenever it came to them? How long would a blind date last? About 13 seconds, I think. Oh, sorry, your rear end is too big. That's ok, your breath stinks anyway. See you later.

What you should really be sorry for," he continued, "is that for the rest of my life, I'll have to avoid wine cellars to keep from thinking about you." "Why? Was kissing me that bad?" A devil-solf whisper. "No sweetheart. It was that good.

What you describe is how it happens to everyone: magic does slide through you, and disappear, and come back later looking like something else. And I'm sorry to tell you this, but where your magic lives will always be a great dark space with scraps you fumble for. You must learn to sniff them out in the dark.

When a Satanist commits a wrong, he realizes that is it natural to make a mistake―and if he is truly sorry about what he has done, he will learn from it and take care not to do the same thing again. If he is not honestly sorry about what he has done, and knows he will do the same thing over and over, he has no business confessing and asking forgiveness in the first place.

When armies are mobilized and issues joined, the man who is sorry over the fact will always win.

Whenever I run into prejudice. I smile and feel sorry for them, and I say to myself, There's one more argument for birth control.

Whenever I look at pictures of horrific things that soldiers do or that have been done to soldiers I always feel sorry for everybody involved because politics throws them into these horrific situations where really it's just 18-year-old kids.

When did you get so smart?" He tapped his forehead. "Brain transplant. They put in a whale's. I'm passing all my classes with my eyes closed now, but I just can't get over this craving for krill." He shrugged. "And I feel sorry for the whale that got my brain. Probably swimming around Florida now trying to catch glimpses of girls in bikinis.

When the United States of America does things in its best interests, it is hated. I'm sorry, that just ticks me off.

When I analyse a position, I have a sparring partner who understands chess amazingly well. In a way I feel sorry for him, because of his work with me he cannot play as much chess as he wants. He more or less gave up his playing career.

When I met Eric Clapton, I was a very young girl. I was 20 years old. And we were linked for a very short time, and then we became friends. And then we lost touch, which I'm really sorry about.

When I saw houses in Palmdale going for $500K, I knew something was wrong. If you got foreclosed, I don't feel sorry for you!

When I was a carpenter, I once worked with this Russian lady architect. I would tell her, ‘Look, I’m terribly sorry, but I want to change that a half inch,’ and she would say, ‘No limit for better.’ I think that is a worthy credo. You keep on going until you get it as close to being right as the time and patience of others will allow.

When I was 23 I started writing for I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again and was paid three guineas for every minute's airtime.

When I went to LA I was almost 30, I'd been nominated for two Tony awards, and on the New York theatre scene I was pretty well known. I went out to LA to meet with casting people, and I remember walking into one meeting and saying: "Hey, how are you? I'm Patrick..." And they said: "I'm so sorry! I thought you were British!" When I asked why, she replied: "Because you're 30 and I've never heard of you!

When man violates man's laws, we send him to jail and point the finger of scorn at him. When he violates nature's laws, we send him to a hospital, give him flowers, and feel sorry for him.

When you are gentled and quieted in your heart, you are incapable of relating to disappointment, incapable of feeling sorry for your self.

When I am introduced as someone from New Orleans, people sometimes say: "I'm so sorry." New Orleans. I'm so sorry. That's not the way it was before,not the way it's supposed to be. When people find out you're from New Orleans, they're supposed to tell you about how they got drunk there once, or fell in love there, or first heard the music there that changed their lives. At worst people would say: "I've always wanted to go there." But now, it's just: "I'm sorry." Man, that kills me. That just kills me.

When I see a man of shallow understanding extravagantly clothed, I feel sorry - for the clothes.

When I think of the person that I thought was Bill Clinton, I think he had genuine remorse. When I think of the person that I now see is 100 percent politician, I think he's sorry he got caught.

When you're more mature, you do start telling the truth, in odd situations. "I'm sorry, I've broken a glass here. Is that expensive? I'll pay for it. I'm sorry." And you do that so that people in the room might go, "What a strong personality that person has. I like to have sex with people with strong personalities.

When you love yourself, you'll feel sorry for those that hate you instead of hating them back.

When you're in a situation, you can complain about it, you can feel sorry for yourself, you can do a lot of things. But how are you gonna make the situation better?

When your woman gives you the silent treatment, say you're sorry, or you'll find out how truly sorry you are when her monologue resumes.

When you've been brought up in variety, I think timing is always important in your life. If I'm ever late for anything, whether it's personal or business, I always apologise. 'I'm sorry I'm late,' and all that. And if somebody is late meeting me, I expect them to say 'I'm sorry I'm late.' It's just, shall we say, showbiz etiquette of my day.

When you see a horse that’s troubled, you sort of feel sorry for them, yet that doesn’t mean that you wouldn’t still ask the horse to behave and find a way to fit in and respond to you as well.

Where is your mother, Charlie asked. Dead. I’m sorry to hear that Thank you. But she was always dead.

Where are you going?" "Nowhere special. I just have some... things to do." "Why did you pause?' "I'm sorry?" "You paused. You have 'some... things to do.' "No reason, I just--" "You're up to something." "No--" "Then why'd you pause?" "Get in the car." She got in. He got in. "Seat belt," he said. Why'd you pause?" His head drooped. "Because I'm up to somthing." "And why can't I come with you?" "Because it's something sneaky." "Do you promise to tell me later?" "I do." "Well all right then." She clicked her seat belt into place. "Let's go.

Where did she come from, and where can I find one?" "Picked this one up at a gas station in West Virginia, bargain price. Last one on the shelf, sorry.

(Whispered to a novice while standing in front of the convent library) Oh! I would have been sorry to have read all those books...If I had read them, I would have broken my head, and I would have wasted precious time that I could have employed very simply in loving God.

Whoa," Connor Stoll said. "Back up. Zoom in right there." "What?" Annabeth said nervously. "You see invaders?" "No, right there—Dylan's Candy Bar." Connor grinned at his brother. "Dude, it's open. And everyone is asleep. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "Connor!" Katie Gardner scolded. She sounded like her mother, Demeter. "This is serious. You are not going to loot a candy store in the middle of a war!" "Sorry," Connor muttered, but he didn't sound very ashamed.

White folks are not going to come to see a bunch of guys with tattoos, with cornrows. I'm sorry, but anyone who thinks different, they're stupid.

Why are you drinking? demanded the little prince. "So that I may forget," replied the tippler. "Forget what?" inquired the little prince, who was already sorry for him. "Forget that I am ashamed," the tippler confessed, hanging his head. "Ashamed of what?" insisted the little prince, who wanted to help him. "Ashamed of drinking!

Why did I laugh at his sorry, bedraggled appearance? Because ridiculousness made a repellant situation more bearable.

Why didn’t you wake me up?' 'I thought you could use the rest. Besides, you were sleeping like the dead. You even drooled,' he added. 'On my shirt.' Clary‘s hand flew to her mouth. 'Sorry.' 'Its not often you get to see someone drool,' Jace observed. 'Especially with such total abandon. Mouth wide open and everything.

Will looked up angrily, shaking his head in disbelief. Will you shut up? he said tautly. Horace shrugged in apology. 'I'm sorry' he said, I sneezed. A person can't help it when they sneeze. Perhaps not. But you could try to make it sound a little less like an elephant trumpeting in agony; Will told him.

Without thinking, [Will] spoke. 'Halt? Are you awake?' 'No.' The ill humor in the one-word reply was unmistakable. 'Oh. Sorry.' 'Shut up.' He pondered whether to apologize again and decided this would go against the instruction to shut up, so remained silent.

Will: "You are not really dying, are you?" Jem: "So they tell me." Will: "I am sorry." Jem: "No. Don’t be ordinary like that. Don’t say you’re sorry. Say you’ll train with me." Will: "I’ll train with you.

Without marriage there will be no renunciation, Buddha would not have left the world - for what? His wife, Yashodhara, must have created the situation - Mahavira would not have escaped to the mountains. Without marriage there would have been no Buddha, no Mahavira. Just think: the history would have been very flat, without any salt, tasteless. Marriage keeps this whole "sorry-go-round" on and on. People call it "merry-go-round".

Winter is the king of showmen, Turning tree stumps into snowmen And houses into birthday cakes And spreading sugar over lakes. Smooth and clean and frosty white, The world looks good enough to bite. That’s the season to be young, Catching snowflakes on your tongue. Snow is snowy when it’s snowing, I’m sorry it’s slushy when it’s going.

Words got in the way. The things we felt the hardest--like what it was like to have a boy touch you as if you were made of light, or what it meant to be the only person in the room who wasn't noticed--weren't sentences; they were knots in the wood of our bodies, places where our blood flowed backward. If you asked me, not that anyone ever did, the only words worth saying were I'm sorry.

Yesterday was Election Day. If we have any Democrats in the audience, I'm sorry but you're going to have to give up your seats.

Would you tell Dank that I will alway love him? That I'm sorry that I can't leave here. I'm protecting those I love. But I will think of him every day and I will hum his song to myself every night as I go to sleep.