Best 418 quotes in «rejection quotes» category

He was lying there on his death bed, and he asked for her as his last wish. She came with tears in her eyes. He held her hand and said with a smile," I wish I died daily", And then a flat line.

He won’t say no, but who cares if he does? Do it. Hell, guys go through this every time they make a move on a woman, and none of them has died yet. In many cases, that is, of course, unfortunate, but rejection is definitely not lethal. Go get him.

How little thought he had given to her since, how little imagination of her feelings — and after the great honour which she had done him. She had offered him herself and said she loved him.

How often do we truly feel accepted? Are we aware of the collateral effects inflicted when we reject someone or something? How do we move on from a state of constant rejection? How do we gratefully accept rejection? With acceptance, we grow not in a constant state of rejection.

Hugging himself, Oscar leaned against the pantry wall. For two days all he had wanted was for Caleb to come back, and now he was back and Oscar had made a mess of things: he had angered half the customers and confused the other half, and the coin boxes did not look as they should, and [rich, noble] people were complaining about him, and he couldn't look at anybody, and [redacted] was dead, and Oscar was odd. 'What if he doesn't keep me?

Human rejection can be God’s divine protection.

I am a cultural Frankinstein

I am going to the ball now, Lord Martin. Doubtless my dance card will be full. Do you still wish to reserve a spot?" So much for not being foolish. She should have just let him forget, which he surely would have done as soon as he saw all the other women in the ballroom. He crossed his wrists over the newel post at the top and leaned upon it. "Yes, I would like to reserve a spot. If I may have first choice, I'll take the last dance please." "Well, you had best hope I don't grow tired and leave early." He replied with smooth confidence. "You won't." She pursed her lips. "Don't be so sure." "How can I not be?" he replied. "Because I think you enjoy a good party, Mrs. Wheaton. More than you let on. Or maybe you don't even know it yet. Maybe you've never experienced a night that was truly exhilarating." He was gazing down at her with presumptuous assistance, as if he knew exactly what she was about, and it shook her inwardly, because curse him, he was right. She had experienced very little excitement in her life because she had witnessed the consequences of women who loved exciting men. She'd seen her mother's broken heart over her father's many disgraces with other women, and Penelope's heartbreak over Martin and others after him. Most importantly, she knew about rejection. She had been living with it all her life, since as early as she could remember, beginning with the most painful rejection of all- her father's. And later, her husband's. She knew how much it hurt and had learned to avoid it by never seeking attention. Instead, she was deliberately unapproachable. Her mask of contempt was her shield.

I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was – my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

I confess... I'm always secretly amused by people who play 'hard to get,' when they're already so hard to want.

I confidently walked up to the counter, and his friends moved to the side to let me through. I handed him the note. "Happy Birthday," I said. Then I smiled and walked out of the store. I did my crossing-the street trick again, lurking in the shadows and watching. I could see him turn the note over in his hand, open it and read, then turn it over again. He passed it to his friends, who passed it between them. Then I watched him make a shrugging gesture with his hands. And then they were all laughing again. My mortification was total and overpowering. I was suddenly having a very difficult time standing. I had experienced a perfect note of utter and true clarity. He was straight.

I confess... I've always been secretly amused by people who play 'hard to get,' when they're already so hard to want.

I didn’t love until rejection which said nothing about him, but everything about me.

I'd been rejected, but I was still in love, so I decided to start over.

I don't know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I've done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven't done enough. And at some point, I know I'm going to have to crawl out of this bed and pick up the pieces but right now, it can be just me. Just me, these four walls, and this bed. The universe doesn't have to exist outside this bedroom, and that's perfectly okay.

I don't hate you, because hate is a feeling and I feel absolutely nothing for you.

I don't put my ideas in a meeting for acceptance or rejection, I put them in the market for success or failure.

If a circle shuts you out, draw a circle around it.

If at first you think it’s rejection, it’s probably actually new found freedom.

If everyone just accepted you the way you are, then, probably, you'd still be the way you were. So for anyone who didn't accept you at one point, just give 'em a smile in your heart and say, "Thank You"!

If the attitude of many non-Catholic modern philosophers toward Catholic thought could be summarized in a single sentence, it would be: It has been tried, it has produced its definitive results, which have been found lacking, and now its time is past

If you are someone who dislikes, condemns and rejects new ideas, you aren’t fit to lead.

I guess that sometimes it just takes a long walk through the darkness, a long walk through the darkest shadows and corners of your soul to realize that those are a part of you as well, that you've created through your experiences and thoughts those parts within yourself and as much as you can choose to fear them and repress them, they will require your attention one day, they will need your care and acceptance before you can clean them away and turn the lights on. For you refuse to shine the light on something that is imperfect, because you fear judgement and rejection, but you can always choose to look towards the light as the only source of true beauty and love that can help you in the cleaning process. Healing, after a long time of struggle and mess is a complex process, but a necessary one nevertheless. We are so overwhelmed by the amount of work it requires that we so often choose to run away from the light, hide in our dark corner and hope that we will never be found, hope that we will never be seen, or desperately look outwards for that love and compassion that we can no longer find within ourselves, for our soul's light no longer shines as it used to. And sometimes we just find those people that can see the light beneath all that dust and darkness that's been pilled up, those kind of light workers that understand our broken souls and manage to pick us up and see the beauty within us, when we find it so hard to see it ourselves. Sometimes I get so tired of separation, of division, of groups and different religions and belief systems. Even if you do find the truth, once you've put it into words, books and rules it already becomes distorted by the mind into something that is no longer truth. So I no longer hope for understanding, no longer hope for the opinion of a judgemental mind, but I hope to find the words that touch the soul before the mind, I hope to find the touch that warms the heart from deep inside, and hope to find that far away abandoned part of me which I've left behind.

If you mean your words, people who lust over your lovely ways won't dare to reject you.

If you’re looking for a pal, Mr Clough, you can count me out.

...if you live for people's acceptance, you'll die from their rejection.

If you were to love, love not for the lust that you yearn but the rather the pain that you earn with it. Remember though that the ones who brave the pain are eternally bound in Cupid's chain. It is these chains that many of us fear. The fear of losing the freedom of choosing for self. The fear of placing the needs of our better halves before our own. The fear is understandable for history has taught us to despise and the society has given us the chance to entice. However, if you were to pause and think ever about - love - then do remember that the chain which upon acceptance binds you in amour is the same which upon rejection arrests us to an ague called lonesome depression. Few survive in love, but fewer without it.

I learned that, while rejection is the name of the game, I’m always going to be exactly what someone is looking for, eventually. Whether it is looks or personality, be it in the professional world or the dating world, what others have over me is irrelevant, because there’s always someone out there looking for an exact type of someone – a someone that I can completely fulfill. I’m not going to be everyone’s ideal, so focusing on the times I get passed over – be it the modeling industry or in real life – is a colossal waste of time.

I know an alcoholic is the worse, but sometimes I wonder if it's better to have a drinking father that lives at home, or a drinking father, that never comes around.

I'm not yet defeated, just waiting for my next turn to throw the dice again.

I'm fresh out of fucks to give.

Imagine learning at such a young age that your very appearance—your very identity—is enough to trigger such confusion and animosity. Imagine knowing that people will hate you for no reason other than you are who you are

In the heart of appeasement there's the fear of rejection, and in acts of fear there are mirrors of oppression.

In Caiaphas' court-room the Prisoner was now the object of scorn and contempt, 'a worm and no man', a blot on the very name and honour of Israel, a Philistine of the Philistines, worthy only of death. Here we touch another nerve of Christ's sufferings, his rejection by his own people. 'He came to his own home, and his own people received him not' (John 1:11). He was officially disowned as a child of Abraham, he who had wept over impenitent Jerusalem. In this rejection God was rending the Saviour's heart. To be thus spurned by his own people and treated as a reprobate, was a bitter grief to bear. To be delivered to the pagans for further trial and then death added to the pain that wrenched at his heart. But the One who had come to save the world must suffer at the hands of the world.

Institutionalized rejection of difference is an absolute necessity in a profit economy which needs outsiders as surplus people. As members of such an economy, we have all been programmed to respond to the human difference between us with fear and loathing and to handle that difference in one of three ways: ignore it, and if that is not possible, copy it if we think it is dominant, or destroy it if we think it is subordinate. But we have no patterns for relating across our human differences as equals. As a result, those differences have been misnamed and misused in the service of separation and confusion.

Investigation was like a series of job interviews. Getting the door slammed in your face at every attempt wasn’t the exciting life of the detective portrayed on film or television.

In the West, they will either accept or reject. In the East, they will always accept also provide guidance and patience.

It is unpleasant and disturbing to be rejected. It is deeply satisfying to be accepted.

Is there a particular way of looking at your love?” she asked. …..Yes… The way you look at me.

It can be depressing when no one takes interest, and a lack of response makes the writer question why they’re writing at all. To have one’s writing rejected is like you, yourself, are being rejected.

It is the lies he's telling her - as he has been, Nassun understands suddenly, her whole life - that really break her heart. He's said that he loves her, after all, but that obviously isn't true. He cannot love an orogene, and that is what she is. He cannot be an orogene's father, and that is why he constantly demands she be something other than what she is.

I remembered running away here as a teenager, with the first love of my life, and coming-to outside the next morning. The girl and the money were both gone, and she’d written a Dear John letter on my left hand in red biro.

It had taken her a good deal of time before she believed that she was worth all that fierce affection he lavished upon her. To have it stolen away unjustly was that much more cruel.

It's quite commonplace for a young man to fall in love and equally commonplace for him to be rejected, but come what may, I'll always be fond of you.

It's not true that you were the good child. Not a good child at all. You were scared of rejection, so you made yourself a convenient child for your parents to have around." "And your good parents - well, that is a lie as well. Not good parents at all, always looking over their shoulders, afraid of what people might be saying behind their backs. You think that liars who flock together never betray each other? Oh, you will betray your parents. And your parents will betray you. It is the way of all flesh. We tell each other our lies and the betrayed betrays the betrayer.

It was the best start of the day. A day started with a rejection. Maybe, by the end of the day, I would spend the majority of my vitality making the thing occur all alone. Maybe, tonight would be distinctive.

I will not give up this chase I will not give up this phase I will not let rejection stop me I will not let failure deter me I will not let struggles affect me I will not let hardwork thwart me Come on sing with me I will not give up this chase I will not give up this phase

I've been watching you ever since you came into town, and you never gave a single sign that you were interested in her. That's why I made a move. If I couldn't tell, neither can she." "I'm very bad at communi- "I know", said Calix firmly. "I am very quickly becoming an expert in how bad at communicating you are. We've established that, and we're moving past it.

Not everyone deals with what they don't like or understand in a positive way. Some people are going to judge you. Sometimes it's someone you really love and being rejected by them is incredibly painful.

Man rejection of the Truth is the root of his rebellion.