Quotes About Forgiveness

Johnny looked at her. "I think we can't make people love us." "Including our parents?" Especially our parents.

Sometimes you simply made the wrong choice and you had to live with it. You could only change the future. She

I want to imagine there will be peace when I am gone, that I will see all of the people I have loved and lost. At least that I will be forgiven. I

Love has to be stronger than hate or there is no future for us.

And there it is: the core of everything. We're sisters. We know each other intimately. Our pasts, our secrets, our fears. It is a precious gift that we tried to throw away but can't really let go of.

I want to imagine there will be peace when I am gone, that I will see all of the people I have loved and lost. At least that I will be forgiven.

In her hurt, she did what she'd always done: she disappeared. But all the while, she waited, prayed, that both her husband and her daughter would someday see how much she loved them and they would love her in return.

In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are. Today's young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.

The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present. I want to imagine there will be peace when I am gone, that I will see all of the people I have loved and lost. At least that I will be forgiven.

If nothing else, this pause has given me that: a lens through which to view my previous life. It's not forgiveness. Not even near that yet, but it is … acceptance, and that's better than nothing.

waited. It is a long story that doesn't matter anymore, except for this: he came back, and I took him in. We found a way to be happy again. So will you.

But love has to be stronger than hate, or there will be no future for us.

He pulled back and slowly got to his feet. We've all been carrying this baggage for too long. Some of us have tried to go on. He looked at her. And some of us have refused to. But all of us are hurting. I'm your father. She's your mother - whatever she's done or hasn't done, or said or hasn't said - she a part of you and you're a part of her. Don't you see that you can't be whole without her?

Forgiveness doesn't matter, does it, Dean? When a thing is done, it's done. You can't unring a bell.

I want to imagine there will be peace when I am gone, that I will see all of the people I have loved and lost. At least that I will be forgiven. I know better, though, don't I?

It's not forgetting that we need Vianne, it's remembering.

Even if I could forgive him, how would I forget?

We fought, we struggled, we hurt each other, so what? That's what love is, I think. It's all of it - the dust, the drought, the fights with you - never once did I stop loving you or Ant or the farm.

Maybe it had all happened the way it needed to, maybe they'd each crossed their own oceans -hers of damaged love and loss, his of pain- to be here again together, where they belonged.

No worries. We fought, we struggled, we hurt each other, so what? That's what love is, I think. It's all of it. Tears, anger, joy, struggle. Mostly, it's durable. It lasts. Never once in all of it - the dust, the drought, the fights with you - never once did I stop loving you or Ant or the farm.

Dad held Mama as if she were made of glass. So careful, so concerned for her well-being. It filled Leni with an impotent rage. And then she'd get a glimpse of him with tears in his eyes and the rage would turn soft and slide into something like forgiveness. She didn't know how to corral or change either of these emotions; her love for him was all tangled up in hate. Right now she felt both emotions crowding in on her, each jostling for the lead.

Perhaps that's why I find myself looking backward. The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present. I want to imagine there will be peace when I am gone, that I will see all of the people I have loved and lost. At least that I will be forgiven.

He was trying to make it up to her, asking for forgiveness and seeking redemption all at once, sacrificing himself for her. It was a glimpse of who he'd once been, the poet her maman had fallen in love with. That man, the one before the war, might have known another way, might have found the perfect words to heal their fractured past.

He had abandoned her after all; it filled her with the kind of bone-deep disappointment she knew so well.