Quotes About Confession

There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession.

Violence is, essentially, a confession of ultimate inarticulateness.

Er det sant at du gjorde rent i huset mitt?" spurte hun. Å pokker… Det eneste svaret han hadde på det, var alt for avslørende. "Er det?" "Ja. Jeg gjorde det" "Jeg kommer til å klemme deg nå" Z stivnet, men før han rakk å komme seg unna, la armene hennes seg rundt midjen hans og hodet la seg mot den nakne brystkassen.

You staked him. You actually staked him. It was handy. Let's get those medics in here. I don't want this guy skipping out on multiple murder charges by dying on me. I want to know the minute he's able to talk. I think we're going to get an interesting confession. It's supposed to be the heart. she heard Peabody mutter. It's really supposed to be the heart. Eve blew out a long breath. Keep it up, Peabody, and I may have Mira shrink your head after she's done with the second-rate Dracula

Guilt's oozing out of the son—name's Jimbo, and I'm sorry about that. And Bubba's getting sweaty.

I tell myself I talk to Friday to educate him out of darkness and silence. But is that the truth? There are times when benevolence deserts me and I use the words only as the shortest way to subject him to my will. At such times I understand why Cruso preferred not to disturb his muteness. I understand, that is to say, why a man will choose to be a slaveowner. Do you think less of me for this confession?

Qhuinn stopped breathing, focusing everything he had on the male who had been his best friend and his never-been lover… and the ever-after that was never going to happen. Even after all the things that had gone on between them, and all the fuckups on his end, which were legendary, Blay still had his back. "I love you," Qhuinn blurted into the silence.

Blay said roughly,I'm still in love with him Saxton dropped his eyes and brushed at the top of his thigh, as if there might have been a tiny piece of lint there. I know. You thought you weren't?

In his fantasy, he kissed his best friend again, pulled back, and… "I love you," he said into the spray of the shower. "I… love you." As he closed his eyes against the pain, it was hard to know how much of what ran down his cheeks was water, and how much was something else.

And God help them both, if it hadn't been for Saxton, Qhuinn would have dropped the l-word right then and there, even though the timing was stupid.

He's into you, isn't he. Answer the question, Marissa. Flyboy with the superhero plasma... he wants you, doesn't he? -Butch and Marissa

I've missed you," he blurted. "More than I've wanted to admit—and now that you're here with me, I can't figure out why I worked so fucking hard to avoid telling you that.

Every one of these things I said was a knife at myself. Everything I had ever secretly held against my brother was coming out: how ugly I was and what filth I was discovering in the depths of my own impure psychologies (214).

difficult to make a real confession and show what happened when you're such an egomaniac all you can do is take off on big paragraphs about minor details about yourself and the big sole details about others go sitting and waiting around)

Without feeling abashed by my ignorance, I confess that I am absolutely unable to say. In the absence of an appearance of learning, my answer has at least one merit, that of perfect sincerity.

I'm sorry," he says, "for that time I kissed you at that party and for that time at the wedding and more than anything for the thousand times that I wanted to and didn't have the guts to.

I will tell him that I've always thought he was a monster. And that I want to be his bride

True wisdom lies in one's confession about the limits of one's knowledge.

When we inform, we lead from strength; when we communicate, we lead from weakness—and it is precisely this confession of mortality that engages the ears, heads and hearts of those we want to enlist as allies in a common cause.

Even if there is dishonor in the truth, Chevalier, less that dishonor if one confesses it in defence of his person.

estamos tan enfermos como los secretos que guardamos.

I am a sinner. This is the most accurate definition. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. I am a sinner.

It's hard to reconcile my personal beliefs with an entire institution like the Church or the Republicans. Or with people within those political persuasions who have such different ideologies but confess the same things I confess spiritually.

There is that. I might have better luck telling him I'm in love with him. Jace thinks everyone's in love with him anyway." "But I," said Clary, "actually am.