Quotes About Forgiveness

For a moment... I might have been the daughter she'd hoped for...she might have been my teacher and my guide...We might never have been enemies at all.

Rich meant that this room with three beds and a table and chairs and a window filled with glass was something to say sorry for.

Gentleness shown once is mercy, shown twice is folly.

Mum always told me that you couldn't know what people would do in a crisis, but I'd thought she just meant you should forgive people for behaving like weasels under bad circumstances, not that a stale biscuit like Khamis might suddenly come over all heroic in a tight corner.

I had hated him, but I wouldn't have reproached him, any more than I would have reproached a bolt of lightning for striking my house. He wasn't a person, he was a lord and a wizard, a strange creature on another plane entirely, as far removed as storms and pestilence.

Intent doesn't matter, she'd say, when you've really injured someone else. You need to be open to their pain and anger if you're ever to make things whole between you.

I've got quite well-developed willpower when it comes to doing necessary work. I just have very little willpower when it comes to indulging petty resentment:

Intent doesn't matter, she'd say, when you've really injured someone else. You need to be open to their pain and anger if you're ever to make things whole between you.

I was angry at them for everything they'd done to build it, and I also couldn't stand to just turn my back and let it all come tumbling down. It wouldn't have fixed anything they'd done. It would only have made an even worse waste of it all.

I knew that no matter what there would be no mercy to it, no kindness allowed. You couldn't return a kindness after you were dead.

Recordaba lo que no debía, y había olvidado demasiado. Recordaba cómo matar y cómo odiar, y se le había olvidado cómo crecer.

To forgive ourselves for what we didn't do Replay a scene over and over in mind Change it change Apologizing to our own story handful of soil I could have planted something better here To walk without remembering another walk To wash off the hoped of a darkened day Make a new one

all that the high cost of holy oil delivers is the assuaging of guilt, of the compulsion to sacrifice. In this way, the great medieval industry of pardons and indulgences reappears as the holy oil industry of today. The value of indulgences is their expense to the penitent. Their primary psychological meaning lies in how much the penitent is willing to sacrifice for the sake of forgiveness.

If you must speak ill of another, do not speak it, write it in the sand near the water's edge.

If you must slander someone, don't speak it - but write it - write it in the sand, near the water's edge!

The world will forgive you if you make mistakes, but it will never forgive you if you make no DECISIONS, because it will never hear of you outside of the community in which you live.

Christ has freed us from the past with its infinite complexities. In Him we have become new creatures and begun a new life, owing nothing to anyone, writing in our book, Now I am beginning... What matter is your past, your sin? Now walk in the newness you have found and sin no more.

Are you angry at me, don Juan? I asked when he returned. He seemed surprised at my question. No! I'm never angry at anybody! No human being can do anything important enough for that. You get angry at people when you feel that their acts are important. I don't feel that way any longer.

Supe entonces que dedicaría cada minuto que nos quedaba juntos a hacerla feliz, a reparar el daño que le había hecho y a devolverle lo que nunca supe darle. Estas páginas serás nuestra memoria hasta que su último aliento se apague en mis brazos y la acompañe mar adentro, donde rompe la corriente, para sumergirme con ella para siempre y poder al fin huir a un lugar donde ni el cielo ni el infierno nos puedan encontrar jamás.

There are no second chances in life, except to feel remorse.

Perhaps for that very reason, I adored her all the more, because of the eternal human stupidity of pursuing those who hurt us the most.

I knew then that I would devote every minute we had left together to making her happy, to repairing the pain I had caused her and returning to her what I never known how to give her. These pages will be our memory until she drows her last breath in my arms and I take her forever and escape at last to a place where neither heaven nor hell will ever be able to find us.

Everything can be forgiven in this world, save telling the truth.

That's what happens when people reach old age; nobody remembers they've been bastards too.