I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.
Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right.
Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.
Grudges are heavy, but for the people hurting the most, I suppose forgiveness is even heavier.
Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our gigantic intellects.
Preventing your heart from forgiving someone you love is actually a hell of a lot harder than simply forgiving them.
I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.
Forgotten is forgiven.
But really, the term “forgive and forget” doesn’t make sense to me. Forgiving does allow us to stop dwelling on an issue, which isn’t always healthy. But if we forget, we don’t learn from our mistakes. And that can be deadly.
Your successes and happiness are forgiven you only if you generously consent to share them.[On ne vous pardonne votre bonheur et vos succès que sivous consentez généreusement à les partager.]
You can’t forgive without loving. And I don’t mean sentimentality. I don’t mean mush. I mean having enough courage to stand up and say, “I forgive. I’m finished with it.”
Women can accept the fact that a man is a rotter, a swindler, a drug taker, a confirmed liar, and a general swine without batting an eyelash and without its impairing their affection for the brute in the least! Women are wonderful realists.
