Best 1065 quotes in «betrayal quotes» category

Hatred begins to emerge like love and it's not too far from love.

He didn't even attempt to smile and I knew then that I had lost him.

He felt at once betrayed and betrayer, deceived and deceiver. He was a criminal forced into crime, an unwilling whore.

He guessed he could see now, in the darkness of this room, with this new place throbbing around him, how going back could be like dying. It was the first time he had seen it that way; and from that angle, the betrayal was somehow not so huge.

He had swept her off her feet then, and was all charm and charisma but then the magic slowly diminished and finally died due to his secret betrayals over time. Thousands of little resentments had replaced the early warmth. But their hearts, although heavy with bitterness and anger at the failed expectations, had gotten used to the solace of each other’s company that often comes with years of living together, and they never stopped performing this morning ritual of their married life.

He had found that jealousy – or perhaps the fear of betrayal – was no respecter of age. Indeed, if anything, he thought getting older simply made it worse; he felt more vulnerable now.

He knew I betrayed him and yet he was rescuing me once again, maybe for the last time.

He is polite; the perfect gentleman at first. Yet she knows his kindness is an act he performs for himself to justify what he’s about to do.

He leaned in and kissed her. His lips were dry, and tasted of gritty stone and dust. Alice's fingers curled so hard against the book that they ached, and after a moment or two she closed her eyes. It seemed like an age before he pulled away. Her lips tingled, as though he'd passed on an electric charge. "I'm sorry," he said, with a lopsided grin. "It's part of the spell." Alice had a single moment to be furious before the music of the Siren rose all around her, a quiescent orchestration building to an unexpected crescendo. As her mind drifted away on that exquisite, all-encompassing melody, the last thing she felt were his hands on hers, gently tugging the book from her slackening fingers.

He learned...never to show his anger or hatred against a stronger adversary, for fear of being crushed.

He realized that trust between people is what makes us happy. Any totalitarian state is based on betrayal. It needs people to inform on each other, to avoid socializing to interact only through the state and to avoid unsanctioned meetings.

Here Me You Eternally End

Her words echoed in his mind. I love you, she’d said. She loved him. Hope dawned in his face. Someone loved him, not for what he once was, but loved him as he was now. He bent to kiss her but she raised her head to look with desperation into his eyes. She had to make him understand why she couldn’t stay. “I love you.” She repeated. “I won’t let him hurt you or any of my new friends.” Enrico had never known fear. He knew it now. She would leave him. He knew she would, her sense of loyalty was matched only by his own. If she thought she could protect him by leaving, she would run rather than put his or anyone else’s life in danger. She loved him. The words made his heart sing and at the same time brought him the greatest despair he had known since Katrina had betrayed him.

He returned her gaze, yearning for sentimental solace; love which emanated from a familiar source, mattered little how bedevilling. They shared an intimate moment, a silent tête-à-tête, which seemed to confront doubts each harboured.

...her heart filled with regret; regret for a broken marriage she knew could never be fixed and for the life she had imagined herself living which had been ripped apart, like her heart, by the man who she thought she would grow old with and be married to for the rest of her life.

(Her husband's departure ...) had picked Mildred up by the hair and dropped her down at the doorstep of insanity. From "Butterfly on F street

He's a waiter, not a Mafia stooge, so what's he going to do? Blac pepper them to death? Compliment them into a coma? Run them over with the dessert trolley?

He sells his loyalties to the highest bidder. Shouldn’t even a mercenary have morals? That’s the textbook definition of a whore!

He stands his ground but she can see him collapse. He looks like a man in a film the moment after he's been shot and before he falls to the ground -

He tells me he can't believe how bitter he has become, how sour, that all his life he had been one of the most fun, one of the happiest, one of the most joyous people anyone knew, and now he was like a crumpled piece of steel covered in rust. The way he describes himself, a 'crumpled piece of steel covered in rust,' I don't think I'll ever forget those precise words or his voice as he said them.

He was mocking me. I could see his mouth beginning to lift in a maddening smirk, a smile that was half sardonic and half secretive, as if the fate of the world depended on the answer to a riddle only he knew and would never share.

His words were like Satin on her Skin. She just picked the lies she liked the best.

...his jaw tightening and his eyes closed on the tears. “I believe you. It’s okay because I understand and I believe you.

How do we find words for describing levels of betrayal and emotional, physical, sexual and spiritual torture that fragment and destroy a child or cast and case traumatic shadows over the whole of adult life? We might, as a society, slowly find it possible to accept that one in four citizens are likely to have experience some form of emotional, psychical, sexual or spiritual abuse (McQueen, Itzin, Kennedy, Sinason, & Maxted, 2008), in itself a figure unimaginable and hidden twenty years ago. However, accepting the way a hurt and hurting parent or stranger re-enacts their disturbance with a vulnerable child or children remains far easier to digest than to consider the intellectually planned, scientific, methodical, procedures of organized child-abusing perpetrators-in other words, torture.

How did he get so terribly smart, so determined? Maybe it was the pain I'd caused that made him that way, and if that were true, then I'd sort of had a hand in it, in making him as smart and devious as he was. I was really starting to dislike the guy. But I also felt a little proud, like Dr. Frankenstein must have felt when his monster turned on him, because after all, it was Dr. Frankenstein who had made the monster strong and cunning enough to turn on him.

Howard: Sometimes a betrayal can be so subtle that it clouds the whole thing. Nita: It would have to be a real betrayal. Not like canceling an appointment. It would be like you’d end the relationship in the middle. Howard: Why would I call it off? Nita: I don’t know!

How I should have raised all her terrible destruction to the surface like a shipwrecked boat dredged up from the sea floor. But that would have given the fracture a shape, a dimension--a definite perimeter to the ruin. This way has a subtle cruelty. This way will torment. She will spend years trying to map the rift she caused and sound the damage. She will push on the bruise and grow frantic trying to repair the creeping remoteness. It is the unkindest thing I have ever done. And I will not relent. I will not do otherwise.

How long will you continue to betray Jesus. I know you think he can defend himself like Judas thought but one of these days He will be the taken away. He will be killed. Dead in your heart. Dead till the word does nothing to you when it's preached.

How stand I, then, That have a father killed, a mother stained, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep, while to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slain? O, from this time forth My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth! He exits.

Huh! Mankind always comes up with ideas to make up for the follies of the status quo. But what happens if those ideas are inflexible and fail to respond to the changing times. They end up betraying the people who believed in them.

How naive Lore had been, despite being the daughter of a father no one spoke of, despite the strange, incomplete conversations at her mother’s deathbed; how again and again she was caught up short by the discovery that other people had stories they didn’t tell, or told stories that weren’t entirely true. How mostly you got odd chunks torn from the whole, impossible truly to understand in their damaged form.

How shameful it is to hurt those who love us.

Humankind doesn’t have a genuine intellectual memory. They don’t need the Truth. They don’t want to know the Truth.

Human ties are the greatest distorters of reality because they tend to conceal man’s worst selfish instincts.

I always thought high school was supposed to be a time for finding yourself, but I guess that's only if you fit into the mold people have made for you.

How do you forgive those who’ve betrayed you? Move on from the hurt they caused? Does forgiving mean you’ve given them a pass?... Forgiveness is tricky; I’ve often felt like I can’t… But if you don’t… you’re trapped.

I am all out of forgiveness and you are all out of chances to get back into my life.

I can’t control your behavior; nor do I want that burden… but I will not apologize for refusing to be disrespected, to be lied to, or to be mistreated. I have standards; step up or step out.

I am, for certain, a powerful force. I've stood outside on a winter day, for years an unending winter, without batting an eye. While you... even when you go out on a sunny day, you bring a sweater just in case. You can never be on the outskirts, you can never be in the cold, you can never be at the losing end. You need your blankets. You make me think twice about what it means to be a protector; you protected me so well only because I was beside you. It wasn't about me. It was still about you. But I have learned... that even in the winter the summer lasts within me. Flowers grow and sunbeams exit the palms of my hands. And that I can grow feathers and lots of fur.

(aside) Oh, you are well tuned now, But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music, As honest as I am.

....I came to consider betrayal a moral violation of another's humanity—akin to torture.

I certainly don’t have any interest in being on a dark veranda with any man except my husband, unlike some women do.” - Esther Norman

Ich liebe den Verrat, aber ich hasse den Verräter.

I am grateful to those who have betrayed me… They thought they were just stabbing me in the back, but they were also cutting me free from their poisonous life.

I am overachieving at aimlessness, I am a type-A, alpha-girl lollygagger, the leader of a gang of heartbroken kids, running wild across this lonely strip of amusements, each of us smarting from the betrayals of a loved one.

But if you knew about this…conspiracy, why did you cooperate with it? Why did you allow Hae-Joo Im to get so close to you? Why does any martyr cooperate with his judases? Tell me. We see a game beyond the endgame… But to what end? Some future…revolution? It can never succeed. As Seneca warned Nero: No matter how many of us you kill, you will never kill your successor.

I can love what is broken.

I cannot live to hear the news from England. But I do prophesy th' election lights On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice. So tell him, with th' occurents, more and less, Which have solicited - the rest is silence.

I don’t even care enough to set the record straight. It was hilarious, what a huge liar she was. She actually believed her own bullshit.

I don't know which side I might choose, if I ever have to. Which side I might betray. The knife of that knowledge cuts deep, and I bleed where no one else can see