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Betrayed Quotes

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Betrayed Quotes

“Father-daughter incest is not only the type of incest most frequently reported but also represents a paradigm of female sexual victimization. The relationship between father and daughter, adult male and female child, is one of the most unequal relationships imaginable. It is no accident that incest occurs most often precisely in the relationship where the female is most powerless. The actual sexual encounter may be brutal or tender, painful or pleasurable; but it is always, inevitably, destructive to the child. The father, in effect, forces the daughter to pay with her body for affection and care which should be freely given. p4”

“People have been taught to hide. They have been taught not to trust. They have been taught that man is naturally bad, that life is naturally dangerous, that unless you keep very alert you are going to be cheated and deceived. If you don’t protect yourself you will be lost. These things have been put into the unconscious from the very childhood. They have become part of our foundation and because of them we go on hiding. The reality is just the opposite: man is not naturally bad, man is naturally good. Nobody really wants to do bad, and if somebody is doing bad it simply means that he has been a victim of circumstances and situations so he has been forced to do that. No thief is happy to be a thief and no murderer is happy to be a murderer. They have been forced. In fact they are Victims; they have been compelled by the logic of situations. They have been brought up in such a way that their whole being has been poisoned.”

“I’m always more interested in the people around me,” Mrs. Mantle said. “All the details that tell me about a person. For example, I have some ideas about you.” “As in?” I couldn’t help but be intrigued. Most people didn’t notice me at all. “Your love of art. The glimmer of intelligence in your eyes. Your simple dark skirt and white blouse hinted that you’d been at work, although I’d guessed a secretary, not a bakery. You mentioned a father but no mother, which leads me to believe your mother has passed away some time ago. You’re in obvious distress, given the tears. I’m guessing a man has broken your heart.” My brows shot up in surprise. “How did you know?” “As I said, I watch people carefully. The way you brushed away the tears with such ferocity, as if you wanted to punish yourself for crying. Tell me about him. What happened?” I thought for a moment. Did I want to tell my pitiful story to a stranger? It was surely one she’d heard before. Left for a woman’s best friend. An image of Lionel’s face danced before me. His soft brown eyes and a mouth too pink for a man, yet perfect. The pitying way he’d looked at me while saying the words, “I love her. We’re going to marry. I’m sorry, Faith. Truly, I am. But you deserve a man who loves you, and I’m not him.”

“To overdose is almost like being betrayed by your lover, your greatest friend, your confidante. The substance is your idol, your ultimate satisfaction, the thing that fuels you in life and keeps you going. If it is given a place in your life, it will fight relentlessly until it becomes the supreme substance of your life. An innocent puff, a momentary euphoria, will eventually become more valuable than every other thing. It starts off as a fling, but the one-night stand gets you pregnant, and in a moment, the course of your entire life is altered.”

“When the person you love can't see your love for them beneath the painful things you say when they reject you, remember this: Love is blind.”

“Once you embrace your value, talents and strengths, it neutralizes when others think less of you.”

“You used me. Seduced me. Fucked me to get what you wanted. All these months, you made me think--- God, I'm such an idiot!--- you had me believing you actually loved me! And now you claim some shit went down with ghosts and a veil and you're blaming me for it? And--- and Frankie? Who's dead, by the way, so I'm not exactly sure how he figures. That about sum it up?" "That's not fair." She felt like she was falling. "Something did go down. I saw them. I do love you." "Bullshit." He stood up, everything itching inside, that sick sensation like he was about to hurl. "You love not being Hungry. You love yourself. You love that you can hitch a ride to the Afterlife whenever you feel like taking off my pants." "No! Konstantin, that isn't--- that might be how it started, but it isn't how it stayed! I fell for you. It would have been so much easier if I hadn't." "Glad we're just doing what's easy now." He walked around the station, angry-clearing plates. The glasses of champagne. He needed to move. To keep busy. To not look at her. Maura steadied herself on the edge of the counter, the steel a block of ice beneath her grip. "It wasn't easy. Any of it. I'd give anything to take it back." It was hard to breathe; she couldn't get enough air. "The Hunger... it took so much from me---" Konstantin slapped a wet kitchen towel down, the sound so loud it made her jump. "Yeah? As much as tasting the Dead for a couple decades? Or thinking you're insane every time some mystery flavor appeared? And let's not even talk about my assorted paranoias and trust issues. But hey, you're the only one who's ever suffered, right? At least you know what you did to deserve it. My mouth just happened to be me.”

“You are not a victim. No matter what you have been through, you're still here. You may have been challenged, hurt, betrayed, beaten, and discouraged, but nothing has defeated you. You are still here! You have been delayed but not denied. You are not a victim, you are a victor. You have a history of victory.”

“This is Roshana, the last queen of the Amulen Empire, back when my people ruled all the lands from the east to the west. She is something of a legend among us. Every queen aspires to learn from her mistakes.” “Her mistakes? Surely you mean her victories.” “What?” I frown at her. “Roshana was one of the greatest queens in the world. She ended the Mountain Wars, she routed Sanhezriyah the Mad, she—” “For a foreign serving girl, you are strangely well versed in Amulen history.” “I spent a lot of time in libraries as a girl.” “Were you there to dust the scrolls or read them?” “Surely Roshana’s victories outweigh her errors.” “The higher you rise, the farther you fall. For all her wisdom, Roshana was fooled by the jinni, believing it was her friend, and then it destroyed her. Ever since that day, my people have hunted the jinn. There is no creature more vicious and untrustworthy.” “This is not the story I heard,” I say softly. “My people tell it differently. That the jinni truly was a friend to Roshana but was forced to turn against her. That she had no choice.” “Surely I know how my own ancestress died,” returns the princess, a bit hotly. “Anyway, it was a long time ago, but we Amulens do not forget.”

“People who chase money without chasing any good reason for it are always brought down by the money they chase. Yes! If God gives you a gift, he adds it's manual that contains how to use it to it. However, if you chase something without receiving any authority from above, you will be tempted to throw it away because you can't find any good manual for it; Go, ask Judas Iscariot. He has more to say!”

“When you hammered those blades, you imbued them- the two swords and the dagger- with your power. The Cauldron's power. They're now magic blades. And I'm not talking nice, pretty magic. I'm talking big, ancient magic that hasn't been seen in a long, long time. There are no magic weapons left. None. They were either lost or destroyed or dumped in the sea. But you just Made three of them. You created a new Dread Trove. You could create even more objects, if you wished.' Her brows rose higher with each absurd word. 'I Made three magic weapons?' 'We don't know yet what manner of magic you have, but yes.' She angled her head. Emerie and Gwyn halted their chatting at the water station, as if they could see or sense the shift in her. And it wasn't the fact that she'd Made these weapons that hit like a blow. 'Who is "we"?' 'What?' 'You said " We don't know what manner of magic they have." Who is "we"?' 'Rhys and Feyre and the others.' 'And how long have all of you known about this?' He winced as he realised his error. 'I... Nesta...' 'How long?' Her voice became sharp as glass. The priestesses were watching, and she didn't care. He did, apparently. 'This isn't the place to talk about it.' 'You're the one trying to coax a name out of me in the middle of training!' She gestured to the ring. Her blood pounded in her ears, and Cassian's face grew pained. 'This isn't coming out the way it should. We argued about whether to tell you, but we took a vote and it went in your favour. Because we trust you. I just... hadn't gotten a chance to bring it up yet.' 'There was a possibility you wouldn't even tell me? You all sat around and judged me, and then you voted?' Something deep in her chest cracked to know that every horrible thing about her had been analyzed. 'It... Fuck.' Cassian reached for her, but she stepped back. Everyone was staring now. 'Nesta, this isn't...' 'Who. Voted. Against me.' 'Rhys and Amren.' 'It landed like a physical blow. Rhys came as no surprise. But Amren, who had always understood her more than the others; Amren who'd been unafraid of her; Amren with whom she'd quarrelled so badly... Some small part of her had hoped Amren wouldn't hate her forever. Her head went quiet. Her body went quiet. Cassian's eyes widened. 'Nesta-' 'I'm fine,' she said coldly. 'I don't care.' She let him see her fortify those steel walls within her mind. Used every bit of Mind-Stilling she'd practiced with Gwyn to become calm, focused, steady. Breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. She made a show of rolling her shoulders, of approaching Emerie and Gwyn, whose faces bunched with concern in a way Nesta knew she didn't deserve, in a way that she knew would only day vanish, when they, too, realised what a wretch she was. When Amren told them what a pathetic waste of life she was, or they heard it from someone else, and they ceased being her friends. She wouldn't if they'd even say it to her face, or if they'd just disappear. 'Nesta,' Cassian said again. But she left the ring without looking back at him. Emerie was on her heels instantly, trailing her down the stairs. 'What's wrong?' 'Nothing,' Nesta said, her own voice foreign to her ears. 'Court business.' 'Are you all right?' Gwyn asked, a step behind Emerie. No. She couldn't stop the roaring in her head, the cracking in her chest. 'Yes,' she lied, and didn't look back as she hit the landing and vanished down the hall.”

“All I can say is the bubbling pizza tasted as spectacular as it looked, and I didn't even fool with fixin' a salad to go with it. Since Sugar and Spice were begging and whining, I picked off a few pieces of sausage and pepperoni and tossed them to the dogs while I kept watching Emeril roll out and stretch some dough and trying not to think about Vernon and Sally and the way they'd deceived me. What I really wanted to do was scream at Emeril that his dough was too thick and more like the Chicago style than the crisp classic Neopolitan one I was eating. But, instead, I finished munching on the slice, and looked at the meatballs and pieces of bacon and golden mushrooms and shiny olives and onions nestled in all the melted cheese on the next slice, and started nibbling on that one. By now, Emeril was chopping herbs while he sautéed onions and garlic in olive oil, and when I wasn't concentrating on him, my thoughts shifted again to Vernon and Sally, and the humiliating stunt they'd pulled on me, and how I'd really like to take my gun and blow both their brains out. Then I wondered why in hell Emeril would dog up his pizza with so much tomato sauce, and Sugar was driving me crazy begging for more meat, and before I realized it, I was sinking my teeth into a third slice loaded mainly with red peppers and sausage that had a wonderful fennel taste and telling myself how much better this pizza was than the one Emeril was fixin'.”

“It’s really a rather simple thing to bring balance to my anger. All I need to do is remember that the ‘hand of cards’ that have been dealt to me pale in comparison to the ‘deck of cards’ that I’ve thrown at others.”

“Why wait to forgive and let go only after you have sufficiently wallowed in your despair? Why not forgive and let go now?”

“The self you have betrayed is your mind; self-esteem is reliance on one’s power to think. The ego you seek, that essential “you” which you cannot express or define, is not your emotions or inarticulate dreams, but your intellect, that judge of your supreme tribunal whom you’ve impeached in order to drift at the mercy of any stray shyster you describe as your “feeling.””