Best 1065 quotes in «betrayal quotes» category

For my own piece of mind, I will forget those who have screwed me over this past year and here recently, but "Aunt Karma" won't forget you. Good luck with her, I heard she's a bitch!!!

For some offenses, there is only retribution." Nora Hawks, "One Woman's Vengeance.

...for to be sunk, though but for an hour in your esteem is a humiliation to which I know not how to submit. -Susan

For you it may be enjoyable to betraying but do you know you are killing one innocent person who trusted on you. So keep it mind your enjoy is not free.Someone paid for your fun by His/Her life

Friendship is a living thing that lasts only as long as it is nourished with kindness, empathy and understanding.

Friendship's enemy is betrayal.

Friends are forever but life is full of disapointments

From Orient Point The art of living isn't hard to muster: Enjoy the hour, not what it might portend. When someone makes you promises, don't trust her unless they're in the here and now, and just her willing largesse free-handed to a friend. The art of living isn't hard to muster: groom the old dog, her coat gets back its luster; take brisk walks so you're hungry at the end. When someone makes you promises, don't trust her to know she can afford what they will cost her to keep until they're kept. Till then, pretend the art of living isn't hard to muster. Cooking, eating and drinking are a cluster of pleasures. Next time, don't go round the bend when someone makes you promises. Don't trust her past where you'd trust yourself, and don't adjust her words to mean more to you than she'd intend. The art of living isn't hard to muster. You never had her, so you haven't lost her like spare house keys. Whatever she opens, when someone makes you promises, don't. Trust your art; go on living: that's not hard to muster.

Gemma, I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice is as smooth as silk as he winds around the bed, his radiant, green eyes fixed on me. “I promise I won’t hurt you. Everything’s okay.” I laugh sharply as I put weight on my weak legs. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, which says a lot since you’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met.

Growth is betrayal.

Hannah felt a hot pulse of anger. So this was how he saw her: as a mere instrument of his punishment, a flail or cudgel lacking any volition of her own?

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

Gavriel sat stock-still. Inside him roiled such turmoil that he feared that should he move, he would smash every piece of furniture in the room, crack every pane of every window, until there was nothing but shining splinters where the parlor had been. Instead, he leaned back his head and laughed, a long, cruel laugh that did not seem to belong to the boy Roza had known. It blazed up from deep inside him, from some embers he’d always been careful never to stoke.

George stared at the dove. What would she say if she could speak to him? What would she wish for, for her father? For she, too, had been harmed by a man who had meant to show his utmost love for her. It made George wonder why love was suppose to be such a wonderful thing. As far as he could tell, love was just another excuse for causing pain.

Give love and Get Betrayal This is true same as much as Death is true

Ha! And I bet you didn’t even see it coming!” – Dread Emperor Traitorous the First

Hanya dengan mendengar suaramu, aku tahu bahwa kau adalah takdirku.

Harden your heart.

Happy endings are climax of movies, in reality people die with their griefs, accept this truth and learn to deal with this , Doesn't matter heart but back must be strong, we don't know how many knives people will stabbed there

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

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

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

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

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 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.

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!

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.

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

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

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 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.

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 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 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.

How shameful it is to hurt those who love us.

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.

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