She tried to think of what to say to make it all better again, or at least the way it was before she’d made her confession, though she didn’t regret having confessed. Perhaps that was...

unkindness �of ravens”?

You are everything I am and everything that’s running through my veins

Therefore I do require it, which I makes confession, to be brought reg’lar and draw’d mild.

I’m not afraid of you, Ghleanna. I’ve never been afraid of you. To be quite honest. . I think you’re amazing. I always have. Since the first time you ignored me.

Confession is not all about telling your bad deeds to the public, but being proud of the bad things you have done so far.

The confessor can nullify the exquisitely seasonable moment of confession by talking instead of listening. When he sees pedagogy and advice as more important than simple listening, he diverts the stream of confession.

I think it’s real.

Once I am alive, I still have the chance to live rightly for the rest of my life.

I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment – we are all defined by something we can’t...

I too was pinched off from a piece of clay, I too modeled by omnipotence and flankedby things too wonderful for me

To confess your sins to God is not to tell God anything God doesn’t already know. Until you confess them, however, they are the abyss between you. When you confess them, they become the Golden...

. . .our whispered words, faintly in the darkness, dissolvingwithin the trees—then, fleeting words of consolationwould not suffice if feigned, and flippant wordsconfessed reluctance—our wordswere meaningless uttered on the wind. . .

I can’t bring myself to trust you. But even if you were to betray me, and even if you were to become my enemy… would it be okay for me to love? Could you… let...

The confession of evil works is the first beginning of good works.

The flame of testimony burns brightly when fed with the oil of grace.

I love you.” Hearing my own words, I gasped at the rush of emotion.He put his hands on either side of my jaw and took my mouth with his.

He was clearly not the murderer whom Hawksmoor was seeking, but it was generally the innocent who confessed: in the course of many enquiries, Hawksmoor had come across those who accused themselves of crimes which...

Just as some people may conceal their own sinfulness thus seeming better than the norm, others expose their own sinfulness thus seeming worse than the norm.

As I told Piers Morgan, ‘Catholics have confession, whereas Northern Irish Protestants only have interviews.’

But I’m not a saint yet. I’m an alcoholic. I’m a drug addict. I’m homosexual. I’m a genius.

If you can confess before a friend, you don’t need a priest.

You are a success and nothing will stop your shining!

Your whispers are gentle echoes that sway ardent winds of harmony and in the symphony of life each word is wrapped in rhapsody… Dance with me within the wind… Let me love You…

For a long time,’ Nico said, ‘I had a crush on you. I just wanted you to know.’ Percy looked at Nico. Then at Annabeth, as if to check that he’d heard correctly. Then back...

Every day my conscience makes confession relying on the hope of Your mercy as more to be trusted than its own innocence.

All art is a confession.

You can ignore me, Rachel, and you can try to treat me as a friend, but none of that will erase the fact that I think about kissing you every second I’m awake and dream...

I’m beginning to get the feeling that confession is what we need in order to forgive ourselves.

But the second she opened her eyes and looked at me, I knew. She was either going to be the death of me . . . or she was going to be the one who...

She didn’t understand, I hope to God she never understands what I do, what I am. To be dammed by the darkness that lives inside me.To be saved by her love.No more half-truths. No more...

We need repentance. You see, repentance is not only going to a priest and confessing. We must free ourselves from the obsession of thoughts. We fall many times during our life, and it is absolutely...

Dear Matthew-There’s one more thing I didn’t get to tell you that night in my bedroom. Here it is: I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time. This...

If any ambitious man have a fancy to revolutionize, at one effort, the universal world of human thought, human opinion, and human sentiment, the opportunity is his own — the road to immortal renown lies...

I think I fell in love with you that amazing night on the kitchen floor. Or maybe it was the evening you stepped up and set my arm.” Testing things, he reached for her hand,...

Remember what I used to tel you when you were a little girl? ‘A fool and her money soon part.’ Current-day translation? Stop pissing away your assets at Bloomingdale’s.

A true confession: I believe in a soluble fish.

please not condemn me to eternal suffering in the interminable fires of Perdition for my transgressions.

A man’s got to keep up appearances. I’ll be universally detested if everyone realizes how perfect you are.

As your father keeps clean his lamp to have good light, so keep clean your spirit.

God judges men from the inside out; men judge men from the outside in. Perhaps to God, an extreme mental patient is doing quite well in going a month without murder, for he fought his...

Because I am a damned fool. Fuck! Ihave everything I want right in front of me, I love you so damned much I can’t think straight, and then it’s like…I don’tknow, like I’m so afraid...

I love you. You’re mine. I’ll kill any bastard who tries to take you from me.

She wasn’t my kind of woman and that’s why, that night she was. This wine is the Blood of Christ. Brings the truth out of a woman sooner than any confession box does. Makes you...

I went to the priest for confession, but he didn’t do it.

I love you, Louise Downe McCord. You drive me absolutely crazy sometimes, and this is one of those times, but I love you.

Telling the truth may cause a few seconds of pain, but there’s no medicine that can manage the pain of keeping lies.

The weapons of divine justice are blunted by the confession and sorrow of the offender.

I once heard that contractions are like this: a belt around your middle that is tightened agonizingly in ever elongating instances that arrange themselves in a pattern of pain.

Before I could reply, he had picked me up, literally swept me off my feet, and kissed me. And afterwards, when I tried to speak, he silenced me in much the same manner. It was...