Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love.
Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.
It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.
For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.
Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.
The worst pain in the world goes beyond the physical. Even further beyond any other emotional pain one can feel. It is the betrayal of a friend.
Anyone who hasn't experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all.
It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.
He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.
We have to distrust each other. It is our only defense against betrayal.
It's hard to tell who has your back, from who has it long enough just to stab you in it.
Everyone suffers at least one bad betrayal in their lifetime. It’s what unites us. The trick is not to let it destroy your trust in others when that happens. Don’t let them take that from you.
Tragedy in life normally comes with betrayal and compromise, and trading on your integrity and not having dignity in life. That's really where failure comes.
To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal. You see, I could conceive death, but I could not conceive betrayal.
I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.
There are only really a few stories to tell in the end, and betrayal and the failure of love is one of those good stories to tell.
Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side.
To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.
or simply:
