Quotes About Forgiveness

Alma learned that her father drank out of bottles in the evening, and that those bottles sometimes contained danger (raised voices; banishment), but could also contain miracles—such

Tan malo como el tabaco para los pulmones es el rencor para el alma;

You can't give me your shame, because it's not a thing. We fucking invented it.

The one good thing about being Protestant is that we are not expected to cringe forever in contrition.

Elizabeth Gilbert

I'm sorry for what I did. Of course you are. I'm sorry for many of the things I've done, too. Everyone is sorry. It's good to be sorry - but don't make a fetish of it. The one good things about being Protestant is that we are not expected to cringe forever in contrition. Yours was a venial sin, Vivian, but not a mortal one. [...] Sins of the flesh will not get you punished in the afterlife. They will only get you punished in this life. As you've now learned.

clean up my mess in the middle of the night. Then my mercy swelled, and for just a moment I felt mercy for everyone who has ever gotten involved in an impossibly messy story. All those predicaments that we humans find ourselves in—predicaments that we never see coming, do not know how to handle, and then cannot fix.

Then my mercy swelled, and for just a moment I felt mercy for everyone who has ever gotten involved in an impossibly messy story.

But as we get older, we learn this sad truth; some things can never be fixed. Some mistakes can never be put right - not by the passage of time, and not by our most fervent wishes, either.

No outbreak of jealousy or malice has ever been welcomed in God's eyes." Beatrix continued, "nor shall such an outbreak ever be welcomed in the eyes of your family. If you have sentiments within you that are unpleasant or uncharitable, let them fall stillborn to the ground.

Todos tenemos algo de lo que arrepentirnos y eso es bueno

It should have been unbearable to face this sorry inventory, yet for some reason it was not.

Wayan laughed and kissed her daughter, all the sadness about the divorce suddenly gone from her face.

Dear Lord, please show me everything I need to understand about forgiveness and surrender.

Don't waste hate on pink geranium.

Still, it was a sad state of the world that people judged others not by the best that they could be but by the worst thought in their own hearts.

There was no sound, but she felt a movement, a shifting of the air in her room, the warmth of another presence. Isabel opened her eyes. He was there, at the foot of her bed, a single candle in his hand, dressed only in shirtsleeves, waistcoat, and breeches. "Forgive me," he whispered as he set the candle down. "I could not stay away.

One, he said, ticking points off on his fingers. You are no longer a whore. Two, you wore a mask , you little idiot--no one will recognize you if you don't tell them your past. Three, I love you. Four, you love me. Five--he tapped his thumb against his chin--well, I really don't have a fifth reason, but I should think the first four are sufficient.

She pulled back and murmured, "I'm still mad at you." "Are you?" His wounded voice had descended into Stygian depths. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her jaw. "Yes." She yanked at his hair in emphasis. He grunted, but her grip didn't prevent him from lowering his mouth to hers again. He nipped at her lips and then licked at them, softening the sting. "I'll have to see what I can do to regain your good graces.

People make mistakes. Ideals don't. Think that's the first lesson that must be learned in any marriage.

You were the one who left for London. You were the one who decided to-to tup another woman. You were the one who turned away from me. From us. Who is the greater sinner? I will no longer—urp!

A man makes many a mistake in his life, some small and inconsequential, some that change the course of everything. The trick is leaving it behind you and going on anyway. Because if you become stuck in the past, in things that can't ever be changed, well then, you're done for.

He studied her upturned face for a minute. "Please forgive me. I don't want you to hope. If there were any way—" "I know." She got to her feet. "I even understand." She walked briskly to the door. "I came down to get something for Rebecca. She must be wondering what happened to me.

I don't know what God intends, or what qualifies Him to forgive me,' Sobran said