#confession

It's not the right word, Eva," he pressed on stubbornly, his lips at my ear. "That's why I haven't said it. It's not the right word for you and what I feel for you." "Shut up. If you care about me at all, you'll just shut up and go away." "I've been loved before--by Corinne, by other women...But what the hell do they know about me? What the hell are they in love with when they don't know how fucked up I am? If that's love, it's nothing compared to what I feel for you. ↗

— Sylvia Day

#gideon-cross #lovers #love

Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn't matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you-that would be the real betrayal. ↗

— George Orwell

#confession #love #love

Then he just blurted it out, with no preparation. 'The truth of it is that whether your mother arranged our marriage, or whether it was all an illusion, I must be horribly obtuse, because I can't talk myself out of being in love with you. ↗

— Eloisa James

#marriage

His chains chinked softly. I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die. ↗

— George R.R. Martin

#improvement

All this talking, this rather liquid confessing, was something I didn't think I could ever bring myself to do. It seemed foolhardy to me, like an uncooked egg deciding to to come out of its shell: there would be a risk of spreading out too far, turning into a formless puddle. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#introverts #introvert

... all this talking, this rather liquid confessing, was something I didn't think I could ever bring myself to do. It seemed foolhardy to me, like an uncooked egg deciding to to come out of its shell: there would be a risk of spreading out too far, turning into a formless puddle. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#introverts #talking #introvert

Acting is a form of confession. ↗

— Tallulah Bankhead

#confession #form

Quello ch'io avrei voluto era morire in mezzo a estranei, sotto un cielo sgombro di nuvole. E nondimeno il mio desiderio differiva dai sentimenti dell'antico greco che ambiva morire nel Sole brillante. Quello ch'io avrei voluto era un suicidio natural, spontaneo; una morte simile a quella del volpacchiotto, non ancora ben pratico di astuzie, che va errando sbadatamente su un viottolo montano ed è colpito dal cacciatore a causa della sua stupidità. ↗

— Yukio Mishima

#nature

A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession. ↗

— Albert Camus

#confess #confession #conscience #guilty #guilty conscience

Confession is good for the soul only in the sense that a tweed coat is good for dandruff - it is a palliative rather than a remedy. ↗

— Peter De Vries

#confession #good #only #rather #remedy