Quotes About Forgiveness

Mercy is radical kindness. Mercy means offering or being offered aid in desperate straits. Mercy is not deserved. It involves absolving the unabsolvable, forgiving the unforgivable. Mercy brings us to the miracle of apology, given and accepted, to unashamed humility when we have erred or forgotten. Charge it to our heads and not our hearts, as the elders in black churches have long said.

Don't store guilt for future use. Afra

One can forgive almost anything except one's own stupidities.

Nothing erases the immoral act. Not forgiveness. Not confession. And even if the act could be forgiven, no one could bear the responsibility of forgiveness on behalf of the dead. Not act of violence is ever resolved when the one who can forgive can no longer speak; there is only silence.

It is the spirit which heals the transgressor, and that is in essence what matters.

Las antiguas lealtades nunca se descartaban del todo. Narraway

but can it forgive everything? Should it? Which

Nothing at all, except that he is human, and by hanging him we diminish ourselves as well.

It is a uniquely distressing experience to see yourself only through the eyes of others, too often those you have injured in some way, to know irrefutably what you have done but not why you did it, not the mitigating circumstances, the beliefs you held at the time which made your actions seem reasonable then.

If a man could only learn that you are not punished for the sin, but by it.

How do you forgive someone for not being what you wanted them to be, or what you thought they were? Especially when they are not sorry—perhaps they don't even understand?" "Or again, perhaps they do?" Hester suggested. "And how do they forgive us for having expected too much of them, instead of looking to see what they really were, and loving that?

Love does forgive, but can it forgive everything? Should it? Which loyalties came first—family, or belief in right and wrong?

Crime must be paid for, but not all sins or mistakes need be made public and explained for everyone to examine and remember. And sometimes victims were punished doubly, once by the offense itself, and then a second and more enduring time when others heard of it, pored over it, and imagined every intimate detail.

That it's easy to forgive those you like? That is the test, isn't it…forgiving those you don't like? Especially those who have hurt someone you love. Anyone can do the easy things.

What is it? That you are imperfect, too? Like the rest of us? Victor, did you suppose I did not know you've made errors, mistakes, and perhaps worse? If not, what would we have in common? You might forgive my flaws, but you would never understand them. There would always be blemishes you would prefer were not there. Can you really forgive, if you have no need to be forgiven?

Merciful death. How you love your precious guilt

The evil of one murder is infinite, and my guilt is like my beauty - eternal. I cannot be forgiven, for there is no one to forgive me for all I've done.

Let tears gather in your eyes. You haven't tears enough for what you've done to me. Six more mortal years, seven, eight…I might have had that shape!' Her pointed finger flew at Madeleine, whose hands had risen to her face, whose eyes were clouded over. Her moan was almost Claudia's name. But Claudia did not hear her. 'Yes, that shape, I might have known what it was to walk at your side.

We are not damned. We never were. Who under the sun has the right to damn any living breathing creature?

We spend too much time cursing time—time waits for no man, time will tell, oh, the ravages of time, time flies! We don't think about the gift of time. Time gives us the chance to make mistakes and correct them, to regenerate, to grow. Time gives us the chance to forgive, to restore, to do better than we have ever done in the past. Time gives us the chance to be sorry when we fail and the chance to try to discover in ourselves a new heart.

No matter how rudely someone treats you, remain kind. Walking away at peace with yourself is worth it.

The second thing I believe is that all of us would be human again if we could.

Remember me not for my weakness, for my sins, or for my poor judgment. But that I loved you.

He was tired and full of shame, and if Ernestino and the others wouldn't brave this rain, he would go it alone, he would find some place to sing, some place where, anonymous and numbed by drink, he could sing until he had forgotten everything.