Best 1065 quotes in «betrayal quotes» category

Protect me from my friends I can take care of my enemies

Quanto a Emma, non si chiedeva se lo amasse. Ella credeva che l'amore dovesse arrivare all'improvviso, con fragori e folgori; uragano dei cieli che cade sulla vita, la sconvolge, strappa via le volontà come foglie, e trascina all'abisso il cuore intero. Ella non sapeva che sulle terrazze delle case la pioggia forma laghetti quando le grondaie sono ingorgate, e avrebbe continuato a credersi al sicuro, quando a un tratto scoprì una crepa nel muro.

Quédate siempre detrás del hombre que dispara y delante del hombre que está cagando. Así estás a salvo de las balas y de la mierda.

Read this first volume and you'll want to finish the next two--300,000 words in total--with the first 90,000 setting the stage for a life-affirming masterpiece, and characters you will never forget!

Relationship is made for two people, but obviously some people don’t know how to count.

Remember these, Sons! Truth presented with tenderness enriches the soul of man and enhances humanity in the process. A Franco-Cameroonian relation based on truth and nurtured with tenderness will be to the benefit not only of Kamerun and France, but also of mankind as a whole.

Remember what he said about my picture: I’m lovely and it made him do double cartwheels. Remember also that he’s prone to hyperbole, so don’t take everything he says literally.

...repeated trauma in childhood forms and deforms the personality. The child trapped in an abusive environment is faced with formidable tasks of adaptation. She must find a way to preserve a sense of trust in people who are untrustworthy, safety in a situation that is unsafe, control in a situation that is terrifyingly unpredictable, power in a situation of helplessness. Unable to care for or protect herself, she must compensate for the failures of adult care and protection with the only means at her disposal, an immature system of psychological defenses.

Respect when earned, should be protected because when lost, it would be hard to recover it. When one trusts and relies on you so much and you take it for granted, the day such a person would take a decision to disrespect you, forget it, you are a goner

Revenge writing is a female genre. Men who have been left by women or made cuckolds by rivals either lick their wounds in humiliated silence or start the Trojan Wars. Having no other power or public voice, the betrayed woman reaches for her pen.

Sex, Money, Corruption, Prostitutes, Alcohol, Drugs, Pimps and Betrayal. All Over.

Rikki looked over at me. “Why now?" she asked, looking back at Arly. “Why is this happening now?" "Hard to say." Arly [therapist] replied. "DID usually gets diagnosed in adulthood. Something happens that triggers the alters to come out. When Cam's father died and he came in to help his brother run the family business he was in close contact with his mother again. Maybe it was seeing Kyle around the same age when some of the abuse happened. Cam was sick for a long time and finally got better. Maybe he wasn't strong enough until now to handle this. It's probably a combination of things. But it sure looks like some of the abuse Cam experienced involved his mother. And sexual abuse by the mother is considered to he one of the most traumatic forms of abuse. In some ways it's the ultimate betrayal.

Self-betrayal occurs when we do to another what we sense we should not do or don't do what we sense we should. Thus self-betrayal is a sort of moral self-compromise, a violation of our own personal sense of how we ought to be and what we ought to do.

... sexual abuse by the mother is considered to he one of the most traumatic forms of abuse. In some ways it's the ultimate betrayal.

She dreamed of autumn. Of chilly autumn winds and soft fall rains. She could even feel the cool moisture as the rain drops touched her face and ran down her cheeks.

She would talk to him in the car, ask him something, then turn on the radio and find her question answered by the lyrics of a song; pick up a book and turn to a random page, to find the words that were exactly what she needed to hear. There is no such thing as coincidence, she would think, blowing a kiss of thanks to the heavens.

She was like a queen who beholds the virgin soil of her kingdom invaded and wasted by a traitor. Any other thing she would have pardoned: infidelity, indifference, cruelty, any sins of manhood's caprice or passion, but who should pardon this? The sin was not alone against herself; it was against every law of decency and truth that ever she had been taught to hold sacred; it was against all those great dead, who lay with the cross on their breasts and their swords by their side, from whom she had received and treasured the traditions of honor and purity of race. It was those dead knights whom he had smote upon the mouth and mocked, crying to them: 'Lo! your place is mine; my sons will reign in your stead. I have tainted your race forever; for every my blood flows with yours!' The greatness of a race is a thing far higher than mere pride. Its instincts are noble and supreme. Its obligations are no less than its privileges; it is a great light which streams backward through the darkness of the ages, and if by that light you guide not your footsteps, then are you thrice accursed, holding as you do that lamp of honor in your hands. So she had always thought, and now he had dashed the lamp in the dust. --"Wanda

She would see it as betrayal. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Show me a man that gets rich by being a politician, and I'll show you a crook.

Shock doesn't hit all at once. I have learned.

She is intent on pleasing the men that frighten her.

She is dead now, so I can say that she laughed like us, played like us and her adult life turned out okay- so I heard. But then when we were all twelve or less, it seemed as though she floated behind a scrim. Markedly pretty, she had eyes full of distance- a smile made more attractive by what it withheld; some knowingness it appeared unwilling to share. In the early forties "cool" was our word to describe her, although, at the time, I thought she was simply sad. Something treasured had been irretrievably lost, and there was nothing to be done about it. Her attitude reminded me of what I saw in the eyes of scary old people sitting in rocking chairs on the porch or leaning forward on a fence looking at us as though in a little while we would know the doom and catastrophe they already knew. "Uh huh", they murmured when we tripped over the door saddle or ruined our clothes. "where is your mind" they asked when we dropped the milk bottle, let the coal fire go out. Seriously asking a serious question, they showed no surprise. They knew we would always fall down, drop things, be ruined, and forget. And it was possible to lose your mind. She too seemed aware of our haplessness, but she did not wear their frown. A mournful sympathy infected her smile.

She loved him. But he didn’t know how to love. He could talk about love. He could see love and feel love. But he couldn’t give love. He could make love. But he couldn’t make promises. She had desperately wanted his promises. She wanted his heart, knew she couldn’t have it so she took what she could get. Temporary bliss. Passionate highs and lows. Withdrawal and manipulation. He only stayed long enough to take what he needed and keep moving. If he stopped moving, he would self-destruct. If he stopped wandering, he would have to face himself. He chose to stay in the dark where he couldn’t see. If he exposed himself and the sun came out, he’d see his shadow. He was deathly afraid of his shadow. She saw his shadow, loved it, understood it. Saw potential in it. She thought her love would change him. He pushed and he pulled, tested boundaries, thinking she would never leave. He knew he was hurting her, but didn’t know how to share anything but pain. He was only comfortable in chaos. Claiming souls before they could claim him. Her love, her body, she had given to him and he’d taken with such feigned sincerity, absorbing every drop of her. His dark heart concealed. She’d let him enter her spirit and stroke her soul where everything is love and sensation and surrender. Wide open, exposed to deception. It had never occurred to her that this desire was not love. It was blinding the way she wanted him. She couldn’t see what was really happening, only what she wanted to happen. She suspected that he would always seek to minimize the risk of being split open, his secrets revealed. He valued his soul’s privacy far more than he valued the intimacy of sincere connection so he kept his distance at any and all costs. Intimacy would lead to his undoing—in his mind, an irrational and indulgent mistake. When she discovered his indiscretions, she threw love in his face and beat him with it. Somewhere deep down, in her labyrinth, her intricacy, the darkest part of her soul, she relished the mayhem. She felt a sense of privilege for having such passion in her life. He stirred her core. The place she dared not enter. The place she could not stir for herself. But something wasn’t right. His eyes were cold and dark. His energy, unaffected. He laughed at her and her antics, told her she was a mess. Frantic, she looked for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, in his stance, and she found nothing but disdain. And her heart stopped.

She's cuckoo, laying her egg in my nest.

She waited, thinking you were different from those who used and betrayed her. She believed you would find her, come charging to her rescue. That belief was as misplaced as the monsters we faced were deadly. The day came she finally lost her faith in you, and I was there as I’ve always been there when she needed me.

She wasn't always a pillar of ice. Her warmth and good deeds were repaid with deceit and betrayal until little by little a chill took over.

Since the 1980s, therapists have reported encountering clients or patients who had experienced extreme abuses featuring physical, sexual, emotional, spiritual, and cognitive aspects, along with a premeditated structure of torture-enforced lessons. The phenomena was first labeled "ritual abuse," and, later, as our understanding developed, "mind control.

Singers, actors or artists who touch on sorrow are trying to give comfort to aggrieved souls by giving some meaning to their sorrows.

Societies and people that come close to being happy are those that do well in narrowing the disparity between their desires and their needs, especially the material things of life.

Someday, your heart will pour out the same way it did for me till now. But by the time you shall realize it, I will be gone forever, with all the water in the river inside me completely dried up. You will call out my name to save you from getting washed away in the stream that has just started running inside you. But you will find no hands to save you from yourself.

Some have given up the expectation of meeting genuine, ‘heartfelt’ people and prefer to retire to a mute world, where fish, at least, give a feeling of recognition. In the wake of the unbearable sterile daily noise, their life has turned into a fluid universe of silence, dream, and stillness and their compass has come to be a space beyond fear, deception, and betrayal. Fish never disappoint. (Fish for silence)

Sometimes, our pride compels us to engage in costly wars when a true commitment to a compromising peace would have been the best course to pursue.

Some people live their memorable years fighting against their basic instincts only to succumb in the end to what was actually good for them.

...some secrets beg to be betrayed. The secret of undeclared love is like that.

Sometimes, instead of being hurt, you should look at betrayal as a gift. It makes it that much easier to sweep it up and toss it out with the rest of the trash. And why is that you ask? Because trash starts to stink...and when it does, it has no more value in your life.

Sometimes life begins when the marriage ends

Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. Try not to take it personally.

Sometimes moving forward changes what's behind you.

Sometimes our enemies are disguise as family and friends. You must forgive yourself for having chosen to trust those people who don't care about your life and seek nothing but failure for you. Stop wasting your precious time in trying to make those people see you, understand you, respect you, value you and love you because in the end it all becomes a pointless negative fight for validation that will drain your happiness. Enjoy life by surrounding yourself with those who inspire you and truly demonstrate their love for you. It gets complicated at times but eventually, you will know your worth & leave the trash behind.

Sometimes this was much harder than trying to get an alligator in a suitcase.

Sometimes we do not realize how many people give a damn until something horrible happens. And sometimes we realize that those who should give a damn, whom we counted on giving a damn, sometimes really don’t

Sometimes you like to keep stuff bottled up, but that is not the best policy.

Sometimes you like to keep things bottled up, but that is not the best policy.

Somewhere between the corner of your eyes and the corner of your lips, my love for you was gone. Was I ready to tell you or was I to leave my deception by the chair for your to discover after I was gone?

So that night after Wyatt goes to bed, I can't sleep. And I see this piece of paper with this song he's writing and it's clearly about me. It says something about a redhead and mentioned the hoop earrings that I was wearing all the time. And then he had this chorous about me having a big heart but no love in it. I kept looking at the words, thinking, This isn't right. He didn't understand me at all. So I thought about it for a little while and got out a pen and paper. I wrote some things down. When he woke up, I said, "Your chorus should be more like 'Big eyes, big soul/big heart, no control/but all she got to give is tiny love.'" Wyatt grabbed a pen and paper and he said, "Say that again?" I said, "It was just an example. Write your own goddamn song." Simone: "Tiny Love"was the Breeze's biggest hit. And Wyatt pretended he wrote the whole thing.

Sometimes when the world goes dark, and everyone turns their backs on you, just look the sky to see light, and follow the stars to paradise

Sometimes you have to give up on people. Not because you don't care but because they don't. A person's actions will tell you everything you need to know. Love yourself enough to say goodbye to those who don't make time for you or don't know how to love you back. Let go of what hurts, even if it hurts to let go." ~ Jennifer Green

Sons, any man who is considered a success in life owes a lot to society. We have been very blessed, my dear sons. We have to show our appreciation to our society for making that possible. A time will come when you will meet other Kamerunians who share the same vision for this land. I am advising you to make them partners in our common goals when that time comes. We shouldn’t shy away from playing a formidable role in financing that political force that shall emerge. We must use our influence to ensure that it succeeds.

So the fox killed his brother, the wolf. (Mother Scaer)

So, you see; you have the soul of a missionary, the heart of a revolutionary and the mind of a reformer. But what are you to yourself and the family and friends who will always be there for you?