Apologising Quotes

“I'm apologizing. For whatever I did. For whatever the guy who hurt you did. For the JFK assassination or the botched moon landing. Take your pick." ~Cain, Ghost of You”
― Kelly Moran, Ghost of You

“The one thing you should never do to a woman, whether you make love to her or fuck her, is apologise straight after.”
― Dianna Hardy, Cry Of The Wolf

“I don't know what to apologise for first,' I say. 'Cutting off your head or hesitating so long to do it. I didn't want to lose what little there was left of you. And I can't quite think past how wonderous it is that you're alive.'

'You don't know how long I've waited to hear those words,' he says. 'You don't want me dead.'

'If you joke about this, I am going to-'

'Kill me?' he asks, raising both black brows.

I think I might hate him after all.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“Stop thinking all the time that you're in the way, that you're bothering the person next to you. If people don't like it, they can complain. And if they don't have the courage to complain, that's their problem.”
― Paulo Coelho

“I think we each have a certain number of unnecessary apologies, which we willingly dish out before we realize it's time to stand and fight. I may still have two or three left.”
― Joyce Rachelle

“Her sister's eyes slid to her. Nesta swallowed, holding Feyre's gaze. She prayed that her sister could read the silent words on her face. I am sorry for what I said to you in Amren's apartment. I am truly sorry.

Feyre's eyes softened. And then, to Nesta's shock, Feyre answered in her mind, Don't worry about it.

Nesta steeled herself, shaking off her surprise. She'd forgotten that her sister was... What was the word? Daemati. Able to mind-speak, as Rhys could. Nesta said, heart thundering, I spoke in anger, and I'm sorry.

Feyre's pause was considerable. Then she said, the words like the first rays of dawn, I forgive you.

Nesta tried not to sag.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“I'm sorry- that she still punished you for helping me during my task. I heard-' My throat tightened. 'I heard what she made Tamlin do to you.' He shrugged, but I added, 'Thank you. For helping me, I mean.'

He walked to the door, and for the first time I noticed how stiffly he moved. 'It's why I couldn't come sooner,' he said, his throat bobbing. 'She used her- used our powers to keep my back from healing. I haven't been able to move until today.'

Breathing became a little difficult. 'Here,' I said, removing his cloak and standing to hand it to him. The sudden cold sent gooseflesh rippling over me.

'Keep it. I swiped it off a dozing guard on my way in here.' In the dim light, the embroidered symbol of a sleeping dragon glimmered. Amarantha's coat of arms. I grimaced, but shrugged it on.

'Besides,' Lucien added with a smirk, 'I've seen enough of you through that gown to last a lifetime.' I flushed as he opened the door.

'Wait,' I said. 'Is- is Tamlin all right? I mean... I mean that spell Amarantha has him under to make him so silent...'

'There's no spell. Hasn't it occurred to you that Tamlin is keeping quiet to avoid telling Amarantha which form of your torment affects him most?'

No, it hadn't.

'He's playing a dangerous game, though,' Lucien said, slipping out the door. 'We all are.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“I'm sorry,' he murmured, and my spine tingled. He kissed my neck again. 'I'm sorry.'

I ran a hand down his arm. 'Tamlin,' I started.

'I shouldn't have said those things,' he breathed onto my skin. 'To you or Lucien. I didn't mean any of them.'

'I know,' I said, and his body relaxed against mine. 'I'm sorry I snapped at you.'

'You had every right,' he said, though I technically didn't. 'I was wrong.'

What he said had been true- if he made exceptions, then other faeries would demand the same treatment. And what I had done could be construed as undermining. 'Maybe I was-'

'No. You were right. I don't understand what it's like to be starving- or any of it.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“One breath, the study was intact.

The next, it was shards of nothing, a shell of a room.

None of it had touched me from where I had dropped to the floor, my hands over my head.

Tamlin was panting, the ragged breaths almost like sobs.

I was shaking- shaking so hard I thought my bones would splinter as the furniture had- but I made myself lower my arms and look at him.

That was devastation on that face. And pain. And fear. And grief.

Around me, no debris had fallen- as if he had shielded me.

Tamlin took a step toward me, over that invisible demarcation.

He recoiled as if he'd hit something solid.

'Feyre,,' he rasped.

He stepped again- and that line held.

'Feyre, please,' he breathed.

And I realised that the line, that bubble of protection...

It was from me.

A shield. Not just a mental one- but a physical one, too.
...
'Feyre,' Tamlin groaned a third time, pushing a hand against what indeed looked like an invisible, curved wall of hardened air. 'Please. Please.'

Those words cracked something in me. Cracked me open.

Perhaps they cracked that shield of solid wind as well, for his hand shot through it.

Then he stepped over that line between chaos and order, danger and safety.

He dropped to his knees, taking my face in his hands. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

I couldn't stop trembling.

'I'll try,' he breathed. 'I'll try to be better. I don't... I can't control it sometimes. The rage. Today was just... today was bad. With the Tithe, with all of it. Today- let's forget it, let's just move past it. Please.'

I didn't fight as he slid his arms around me, tucking me in tightly enough that his warmth soaked through me. He buried his face in my neck and said onto my nape, as if the words would be absorbed by my body, as if he could only say it the way we'd always been good at communicating- skin to skin, 'I couldn't save you before. I couldn't protect you from them. And when you said that, about... about me drowning you... Am I any better than they were?'

I should have told him it wasn't true, but... I had spoken with my heart. Or what was left of it.

'I'll try to be better,' he said again. 'Please- give me more time. Let me... let me get through this. Please.'

Get through what? I wanted to ask. But words had abandoned me. I realised I hadn't spoken yet.

Realised he was waiting for an answer- and that I didn't have one.

So I put my arms around him, because body to body was the only way I could speak, too.

It was answer enough. 'I'm sorry,' he said again. He didn't stop murmuring it for minutes.

You've given enough, Feyre.

Perhaps he was right. And perhaps I didn't have anything left to give, anyway.

I looked over his shoulder as I held him.

The red paint had splattered on the wall behind us. And as I watched it slide down the cracked wood panelling, I thought it looked like blood.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Tamlin didn't stop apologising for days. He made love to me, morning and night. He worshipped my body with his hands, his tongue, his teeth. But that had never been the hard part. We just got tripped up with the rest.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight a moment later as he shoved through the flaps and swore. 'Maybe I should sleep out there.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Please.'

A way, considering glance as he knelt and removed his boots. 'You know Tamlin can be... sensitive about things.'

'He can also be a pain in my ass,' I snapped, and slithered under the blankets. 'If you yield to him on every bit of paranoia and territorialism, you'll just make it worse.'

Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. 'I think it's made worse because you two haven't... I mean, you haven't, right?'

I stiffened, tugging the blanket tighter onto my shoulders. 'No. I don't want to be touched like that- not for a while.'

His silence was heavy- sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. 'I'm sorry,' he said. And I wondered what else he was apologising for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Maybe he should apologise for the version of himself that would've accepted the loss of her life and filled a pen with her blood. But how exactly did one apologise for theoretical monstrosity? He wasn't very good at apologising for things he had done.”
― Emma Törzs, Ink Blood Sister Scribe