Quotes About Betrayal

Ed essi ignorano quanto io ti ho amata e quanto io ti ho pianta. Honorata, dopo quella notte fatale che ti abbandonai sola, in mezzo alla tempesta, affidandoti alla misericordia di Dio!...

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.

It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,' he answered. 'Kiss me again; and don't let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?

It's the worst thing to fall in love with someone who will never stop disappointing you...

This for my own part i have more than once been deceived by the person I loved the most and of whose love, above everyone else's, I have been most confident. So that I believe that it may be right to love and serve one person above all others, according to merit and worth,but never to trust so much in this tempting trap of friendship as to have cause to repent of it later on.

The betrayal of a belief is not the same thing as ceasing to believe. If this were not so there would be no moral standards in the world at all.

The moment a wife decides to break her marriage vow she reckons her husband as everything or nothing.

Alas! if your wife has not yet kissed the apple of the Serpent, the Serpent stands before her.

Thoughts of adultery do not take possession of the heart of a married woman all at once, like a shot from a pistol.

There are husbands, tall and of superior intellect, whose wives have lovers who are ugly, short, or stupid.

To come so low as to beg servants to reveal secrets to you, and to fall lower still by paying for a revelation, is not a crime; it is perhaps not even a dastardly act, but it is certainly a piece of folly; for nothing will ever guarantee to you the honesty of a servant who betrays her mistress, and you can never feel certain whether she is operating in your interest or in that of your wife.

When a woman has no friend of her own sex intimate enough to assist her in proving false to marital love, her maid is a last resource which seldom fails in bringing about the desired result.

What a wretched dramatist Shakespeare is! Othello is in love with glory; he wins battles, he gives orders, he struts about and is all over the place while Desdemona sits at home; and Desdemona, who sees herself neglected for the silly fuss of public life, is quite meek all the time. Such a sheep deserves to be slaughtered.

Épouses nous sommes trahies. Amantes, nous sommes délaissées.

I had the feeling that Nakajima was taking one aspect of me - the straightforward, easy-going part that emerged when I was with him, the cheerful surface that I had inherited from my mom - and blowing it all out of proportion. If so, he might feel terribly betrayed when my dark, somber side eventually showed its face.

I shall not be disappointed to leave all you bastards behind.

His boyfriend 'sell-by' date had expired two nights ago when—and she shivered at the memory—he'd drunkenly licked her cheek like a standard poodle in lieu of a kiss when he'd said goodnight. Which was the last in a short, but consistent list of line-crossings that had effectively ended them.

Men like Stephen don't cheat because they're missing something at home, Christy-Lynn. They cheat because they're missing something inside, so they take what they want and make it theirs, because they need to fill up all that empty space.

Men like Stephen don't cheat because they're missing something at home, Christy-Lynn. They cheat because they're missing something inside, so they take what they want and make it theirs, because they need to fill up all that empty space. That's what this woman was. A space filler, something he wanted and took. It wasn't about you.

Barbara, you have done it again! Sweet Salt Air is a fabulous story of friendship, betrayal, courage and love with family and friends. Having been raised in Maine, she writes 'to the T, in describing beautiful and simple lives on a Maine Island.

Letting go wasn't a betrayal, but rather a pure form of love. But letting go entailed acceptance of reality

Doug's office was a Pandora's box that, once opened, gushed with condemning information. Emily was nearly as stunned by the ease of her access to it, as by its quantity. He hadn't camouflaged anything. It was all there for the taking. Apparently it hadn't occurred to the bastard that she would look.

the woman I knew didn't exist. You had given phony references

We are all proprietary toward cities we love. 'Ah, you should have seen her when I loved her!' we say, reciting glories since faded or defiled, trusting her to no one else; that others should know and love her in her present fallen state (for she must fall without our vigilant love) is a species of betrayal.