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Rejection Quotes

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Rejection Quotes

“We can allow ourselves to be found by God and healed by his love through the concrete and daily practice of trust and gratitude. Trust and gratitude are the disciplines for the conversion of the elder son. By telling myself that I am not important enough to be found, I amplify my self-complaint. I must totally disown my self-rejecting voice and claim the truth that God does indeed want to embrace me as much as he does my wayward brothers and sisters.”

SpiritualitySelf EsteemTrustGratitudeTheologyRejectionComplaintsParablesProdigal Son
Book:The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming
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“He made it very clear that he didn’t want me here,” she said at last. “That my remaining at the Institute is not the happy chance I thought it was. Not in his view.” “And after I just finished telling you why you should consider him family,” Jem said, a bit ruefully. “No wonder you looked as if I’d just told you something awful just happened.” “I’m sorry,” Tessa whispered. “Don’t be. It’s Will who ought to be sorry.” Jem’s eyes darkened. “We shall throw him out onto the streets,” he proclaimed. “I promise you he’ll be gone by morning.” Tessa started and sat upright. “Oh – no, you can’t mean that─” He grinned. “Of course I don’t. But you did feel better for a moment there, didn’t you?”

FamilyFriendsRejectionJem Carstairs
Book:Clockwork Angel
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“Man was born for society. However little He may be attached to the World, He never can wholly forget it, or bear to be wholly forgotten by it. Disgusted at the guilt or absurdity of Mankind, the Misanthrope flies from it: He resolves to become an Hermit, and buries himself in the Cavern of some gloomy Rock. While Hate inflames his bosom, possibly He may feel contented with his situation: But when his passions begin to cool; when Time has mellowed his sorrows, and healed those wounds which He bore with him to his solitude, think you that Content becomes his Companion? Ah! no, Rosario. No longer sustained by the violence of his passions, He feels all the monotony of his way of living, and his heart becomes the prey of Ennui and weariness. He looks round, and finds himself alone in the Universe: The love of society revives in his bosom, and He pants to return to that world which He has abandoned. Nature loses all her charms in his eyes: No one is near him to point out her beauties, or share in his admiration of her excellence and variety. Propped upon the fragment of some Rock, He gazes upon the tumbling waterfall with a vacant eye, He views without emotion the glory of the setting Sun. Slowly He returns to his Cell at Evening, for no one there is anxious for his arrival; He has no comfort in his solitary unsavoury meal: He throws himself upon his couch of Moss despondent and dissatisfied, and wakes only to pass a day as joyless, as monotonous as the former.”

PhilosophyHumanitySocietyHuman NatureLonelinessIndependenceRejectionIsolationContentmentCompanionshipHopelessnessMonotonyHermitsMisanthropySeclusionDiscontentmentHermitReclusion
Book:The Monk
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“Don't allow anyone to hold you back from expressing your feelings. Maybe you just can't stand a chance of losing some friends, but if you must be truly you, you must be you! Nothing else!”

LoveFeelingsLosesHonestyExpressionFriendsBlameBusyConvictionAloneRejectionBe YourselfRebelYouApprovalPermissionConsentLicenseYourselfLeaveLeave Me AloneDisapprovalUnapologeticLosersUnchangedYou Are YouNothing ElseUnapologetical
Book:The Book of Maxims, Poems and Anecdotes
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“He started to estrange her... And they became strangers Who knew each other's heart, So broken as they drifted apart.”

LoveHeartRelationshipHeartbreakRelationship QuotesHeartacheRejectionSecretsRejectedLove HurtsHeartbrokenHurt FeelingsTreasonHeartbreak QuotesBroken PromisesBroken Hearted QuotesHurting HeartPainful LoveLovers SadnessConfidentialityLovers QuarrelsLovers BreakupDrifting ApartApart From LoveIndiferenceEstranged RelationshipStrangers In LoveTrust Broken
Book:Pierrot & Columbine
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“The soft glow of the fairy lights in her room, the way her arm warmers covered the bandages on her wrists. She had made them herself, tiny stitches woven into the fabric like a secret, a small act of care for a body she was learning to hate.”

LoveGriefLonelinessHeartbreakTraumaBetrayalRejectionManipulationWorthAbandonment
Book:Nowhere Strangers: A Sapphic Coming-of-Age Story of Digital Romance, Heartbreak, and Self-Discovery
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“Her breath caught in her throat. She knew what he was doing. She had seen it in books, in movies, in the hushed conversations of girls who had learned their lessons too late.”

LoveGriefLonelinessHeartbreakTraumaBetrayalRejectionManipulationWorthAbandonment
Book:Nowhere Strangers: A Sapphic Coming-of-Age Story of Digital Romance, Heartbreak, and Self-Discovery
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“کیا میں نے تو تیری تصویر کے ذریعہ مجھ سے بہت کچھ کہا ہے لاچی ، پھر تو سنتی کیوں نہیں ، کیا تو صرف اس میں اپنی شخصیت دیکھتی ہے اپنی صورت کا عکس، اپنے من کے خدو خال ، لیکن میری روح کا جمال مجھ سے کیوں پوشیدہ ہے۔ یہ میرے ترسے ہوئے برش کے رنگ انھوں نے تیری تصویر میں کتنی نادیدہ جسرتوں کے رنگ برنگے گلزا کھلا دیتے ہیں۔ اری تو کیسی لڑکی ہے ؟ میرے دل کا لہو بھی نہیں دیکھ سکتی ؟ اب میں تجھ سے کیا کہوں ؟ خوب چند خاموش نگاہوں سے لاچی کی تصویر کی طرف دیکھتا رہا اور کچھ نہ بولا. اس نے لاچی کے کسی سوال کا جواب نہ دیا۔ اس کے منہ سے ایک آہ تک نہ نکلی ۔ اس کی آنکھوں میں ایک آنسو تک نہ آیا ۔ بس وہ خاموشی سے مٹھیاں بھینچے ہختی سے ہونٹ بند کئے تصویر کے سامنے چپ چاپ کھڑا رہا. لاچی کیا ایک اس کے پاس آگئی ۔ اس نے خوب چند کے کندھے پر دھیرے سے اپنا ہاتھ رکھ دیا اور بہت سے مدھم اور سیٹی آواز میں بولی اگر میں گل سے پیار نہ کرتی تو تیری ہو جاتی سپری ٹان ! " خود چند یک بارگی چونگا۔ پھر اس کے ہاتھوں کی مٹھیاں تن گئیں ۔ اس کا سارا جسم طوفان میں لرزنے والے پتے کی طرح کا نیا اور کانپ کر ایکا ایک ساکت ہو گیا۔ گویا پتہ ڈال سے گھر گیا اور ہواؤں کے تھپیڑے کھاتا ہوا کہیں دور فضا میں کھو گیا ۔ موت کی وادیوں میں ہمیشہ کیلئے کھو گیا ۔”

HeartbreakVulnerabilityRejectionArtistic ExpressionUnspoken WordsInner TurmoilSilent PainEmotional ConflictLove And Loss PoemsYearning For Connection
Author:KRISHAN CHANDAR
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“This Butterfly Stings by Stewart Stafford The gold of my eye dances on stage for me, Her wings wafting behind her in the chorus, Yet none glimpsed that girl's beauty as I did, This butterfly flew solo in my mind's eye. For two years hence, I concealed my interest, Yet I gazed at her endlessly, so close yet apart, Places of learning changed, but she did not, I foolishly let fly Cupid's token to my inamorata. Seeing my love in a looking glass reflected, Shadow feelings illuminated St Valentine's Eve, My butterfly became a sullen stinging bee, Crushing my tender rose in pieces at my feet. Nor would her wicked scorn end there, She told her friends who joined in my shaming, For years after, turning my last shreds of adoration, Into contemptuous hatred of her existence. Truly no one can take away our memories, Where my former crush still dances on occasion, O sweet butterfly of my youth, one last wish, Never fly away from these fond recollections. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

LoveHeartbreakRejectionCrushUnrequited LoveLove PoemValentine S DayShapeshifterShamingCrushed Dreams
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“When I in dreams behold thy fairest shade Whose shade in dreams doth wake the sleeping morn The daytime shadow of my love betray’d Lends hideous night to dreaming’s faded form Were painted frowns to gild mere false rebuff Then shoulds’t my heart be patient as the sands For nature’s smile is ornament enough When thy gold lips unloose their drooping bands As clouds occlude the globe’s enshrouded fears Which can by no astron’my be assail’d Thus, thyne appearance tears in atmospheres No fond perceptions nor no gaze unveils Disperse the clouds which banish light from thee For no tears be true, until we truly see”

LoveDesirePoetryBetrayalRejection
Author:SwiftKey
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“She sang, as requested. There was much about love in the ballad: faithful love that refused to abandon its object; love that disaster could not shake; love that, in calamity, waxed fonder, in poverty clung closer. The words were set to a fine old air -- in themselves they were simple and sweet: perhaps, when read, they wanted force; when well sung, they wanted nothing. Shirley sang them well: she breathed into the feeling, softness, she poured round the passion, force: her voice was fine that evening; its expression dramatic: she impressed all, and charmed one. On leaving the instrument, she went to the fire, and sat down on a seat -- semi-stool, semi-cushion: the ladies were round her -- none of them spoke. The Misses Sympson and the Misses Nunnely looked upon her, as quiet poultry might look on an egret, an ibis, or any other strange fowl. What made her sing so? They never sang so. Was it proper to sing with such expression, with such originality -- so unlike a school girl? Decidedly not: it was strange, it was unusual. What was strange must be wrong; what was unusual must be improper. Shirley was judged.”

LovePassionUnderstandingWomenMusicSocietyTalentExpressionMoralityJudgmentEmpathySingingExpectationsPrejudiceGenderDevotionGiftJealousyRejectionHypocrisyFeelingFaithfulnessFidelityProprietySocial NormsPreconceptionsMusicality
Book:Shirley
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“Holly, what is it?’ he frowned. ‘Darling, tell me what’s wrong? I know we didn’t plan on making love, but it was the most beautiful thing imaginable, so tell me what’s wrong’ She still couldn’t look at him, filled with shame for what she had done. ‘Could you get your clothes on first?’ ‘You didn’t say that a moment ago!’ She flushed at his angry taunt. ‘Please,’ she said huskily, knowing by the sound of his movements that he was indeed dressing. ‘Now,’ he barked grimly, ‘what the hell is the matter? Talk to me!’ Holly turned to face him, finding him fully dressed now, his expression harsh in his confusion. She knew it was his hurt that was making him angry with her, and yet she could do nothing to help him, was too busy trying to keep herself from falling apart. ‘This—what just happened, it changes nothing between us," -Holly & Zack”

PassionRejectionSoulmatesHate To LoveInsecure WomenAfter SexBesotted Hero
Book:An Unwilling Desire
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“The NSA may, or may not have rejected the invisible secret operative application form I never even bothered to have sent over to them. I'll never know...”

FormNationsSecretKnowledgeKnowingSecurityInvisibleBotherRejectionParadoxApplicationApprovalRejectedNational SecurityNothingBotheredNationApprovedNsaInvisibilityPost OfficeShapeAgentPostSpyingNationalRejectionsSendingBothersomeMoronismPostalSchroedingerOperative
Book:Nothing is here...
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“Though some may see their shortcomings as the greatest evil from the pit of hell, while some throw invectives at God for bringing them into a cruel, problematic world. These shortcomings are transient, the greatest evil does its work and needs no interrogation, their invectives are just a waste of time, and the world is the most sweetest to those with a functional taste buds.”

LifeGodProblemEvilSinPovertySweetFailureTasteFunctionBlameCurseRejectionProblemsWoeSweetestTurmoilGrudgeAnnoyanceCruelInterrogationTransienceGrudgesTaste BudsShortcomingFunctionsGreatest EvilInvectivePit Of Hell
Author:Michael Bassey Johnson
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“Cities were always like people, showing their varying personalities to the traveler. Depending on the city and on the traveler, there might begin a mutual love, or dislike, friendship, or enmity. Where one city will rise a certain individual to glory, it will destroy another who is not suited to its personality. Only through travel can we know where we belong or not, where we are loved and where we are rejected.”

LoveCitiesTravelGloryRejectionUrbanTravelerCityEnmityTravellingVoyageRoman PaynePersonalitiesNovel QuoteCities And Countries
Book:Cities & Countries
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“She didn’t reply. She just walked away and left me all alone under the lonely cherry tree. Tears began to ripple in my eyes. I leaned on the trunk and buried my face into my hands and the tree. Maybe this was what it was like to be heartbroken. The bright noon at school suddenly felt like the deepest caves under the sea. The summer heat suddenly felt like Siberia’s chill.”

SadnessRejection
Book:A Play of the Cosmos: Script of the Stars
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