Quotes About Betrayal

Point is, we hurt each other a lot. And I know it, now. And I'm sorry I hurt you so bad you looked somewhere else.

There is a common medieval literary trope, and some actual cases, of enemies being invited to a meal to make peace, and then being killed while eating and drinking; it may have been a sensible strategy, for people's guards were down, but it was very dishonourable indeed.

Treachery was axe, not a scalpel. It was Hard to make a clean cut.

It's very easy to diagnose a borderline. They screw you over, rip you off, commit whatever transgression, and then they blame you for it.

It can be hard in this business, especially when you're very young, to figure out who you can and can't trust.

easier to assume that people have it out for you than to be disappointed when they don't come through.

Molly learned long ago that a lot of the heartbreak and betrayal that other people fear their entire lives, she has already faced...So when she says it's okay, what she means is that she knows she can survive just about anything.

so alone was almost spiritual—but something in Abby's voice makes her pause. "You might have a better idea," she says. "But you two were 'best friends,'" Abby says mockingly. She taps ash from her cigarette into a chipped teacup on the table. Kathryn looks at her. "I thought so." She swallows hard. "But

I shrank back, my face flaming as if I'd been struck. And in that moment something changed. I didn't trust her anymore. When she cried, I felt numb. After that, she called me heartless, unfeeling. And maybe I was. A

The lawyer asked us to sit down. He was holding a copy of the will in his hands. I sat nearest him. He flipped several pages over and then handed me the copy, with only the last page showing. There at the top of the final page of the will was one short paragraph which read: "It is my intention to make no provision herein for my son Christopher or my daughter Christina for reasons which are well known to them.

Mother took the big saw from me and walked over to the orange tree which stood at one end of the totally mutilated rose garden. It was a mature tree standing maybe eight feet tall, producing lots of oranges. It was covered with fruit. The nurse, the cook, and I stood at a kind of breathless attention watching her as she began to saw the trunk of the orange tree! Finally we heard a cracking, splintering sound and the orange tree toppled over into the stubby remains of the rose garden.

Everyone thinks you're so strong and self-confident, but inside you're a frightened child, waiting to suffer betrayal again from those who should love you most.

Sure it takes two to make the relationship work, but it only takes one to destroy it all.

Sam faced something he had never conceived of in all his life—the triumph of calumny.

you do not know what she did not only to me but to the little children. She has tortured them, turned them against me, lied to them

She would never again try to knit even one stitch in the long chain of their married life. She hated all that was to come.

I know," he said with sudden bitterness, "because your mother's game is working after all. She is turning you against me." "No," said Louie. He looked at her pityingly, "No, I know you don't know it, Looloo.

Your old man sent me anonymous letters himself to make me divorce him." She rippled with he-hes. "I hung on to spite him. I didn't want him. It's my only pleasure left." She laughed.

You spoilt, pathetic bitch. I'm not going to be there for you any more, Hephzibah, not in the way you want me to be. Do you understand that? Whatever is given to you is never enough. You want to take away bigger and bigger pieces of me until there's nothing left. You do that to everyone. You wanted to keep me here, like a prisoner, a slave, didn't you? But you can't. It's over.

Betrayal is never easy to handle and there is no right way to accept it.

If what he said was the truth, it broke her heart. If what he said was a lie, it was broken anyway.

The nineteenth-century German missionary Sigismund Koelle asked over 140 ex-slaves how they had been taken. Almost 20 percent of them told him that family or friends had given them up.

A woman broke up with me, and sent me pictures of her and her new boyfriend in bed together. Solution? I sent them to her dad.

I came to serve you at the age of 28 and now I have not a hair on me that is not white, and my body is infirm and exhausted. All that was left to me and my brothers has been taken away and sold, even to the cloak that I wore, without hearing or trial, to my great dishonor.