Quotes About Sorry

Sorry' he said. 'No, I'm sorry.' 'What are you sorry for?' 'Rattling on like a mad old cow. I'm sorry, I'm tired, bad day, and I'm sorry for being so...boring.' 'You're not that boring.' 'I am, Dex. God, I swear I bore myself.' 'Well, you don't bore me.' He took her hand in his. 'You could never bore me. You're one in a million, Em.

Hello, darling. Sorry about that. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known. You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.

I'm sorry." "Be sorry you lied," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go, yeah, but still something that's made you who you are.

The last thing I'll say for the people that don't believe in cycling, the cynics and the sceptics, I'm sorry for you. I'm sorry you can't dream big and I'm sorry you don't believe in miracles.

Will: "You are not really dying, are you?" Jem: "So they tell me." Will: "I am sorry." Jem: "No. Don’t be ordinary like that. Don’t say you’re sorry. Say you’ll train with me." Will: "I’ll train with you.

Out here, it's better safe than sorry, because generally speaking, too much of the time sorry means you're dead.

You can be sorry you aren't perfect, but never be sorry for being yourself.

There was something I needed to say. “Sorry. About before.” Fang shot a sideways glance at me, his eyes dark and inscrutable, as always. He looked back out at the water. I didn’t expect any more acknowledgment than that. Fang never- “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he said quietly. “When I saw you, and all that blood . . .” He threw a small rock as hard as he could down the beach. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t do it again,” he said. I swallowed hard. “I won’t.” Something changed right then, but I didn’t know what.

Oh, god,” I said. “Sorry, sorry. Do I die now?” --Sadie to Zia

It's volatile, the marriage. Which one isn't? Nothing better than a good, full-on row. Get it all out. Say rude and nasty things. And then be sorry. Genuinely sorry, afterwards.

So about 80 years after the Constitution is ratified, the slaves are freed. Not so you'd really notice it of course; just kinda on paper. And that of course was at the end of the Civil War. Now there is another phrase I dearly love. That is a true oxymoron if I've ever heard one: "Civil War." Do you think anybody in this country could ever really have a civil war? "Say, pardon me?" (shoots gun) "I'm awfully sorry. Awfully sorry."

Suddenly I find myself feeling sorry for those greedy, needy people whose huge salaries are never quite enough, whose sense of worth is defined by their own personal wad. What a diminished, impoverished world they must inhabit ... We should feel sorry for them and their sadly limited lives. Then we should remember never to trust the judgement of those whose priorities are so idiotically skewed.

I'm sorry that government involves filling out a lot of forms. ... I'm sorry myself that we're not still on the frontier, where we could all tote guns, shoot anything that moved and spit to our hearts' content. But we live in a diverse and crowded country, and with civilization comes regulation.

I have absolutely no problem with the young Germans. I even feel sorry for the young Germans because to be maybe sons or daughters of killers is different than them to be sons and daughters of the victims. And I felt sorry for them. I still do.

I am sorry," Will said. "No," Jem said... "Don't be ordinary like that. Don't say you're sorry.

I’m sorry, you just remind me of someone. (Rose) Old boyfriend? (Gallagher) No, my great-grandfather. (Rose) That’s not particularly flattering. I thought I looked rather good for my age. (Gallagher)

He looked at me. " I do know how to deal with demons, Savannah." "I know. Sorry." "So I get a hug?" "No, but I won't smack you, and we'll call it even.

I'm sorry about your Porsche." "I can replace the Porsche. I can't replace you. You need to be more careful." I was just sitting in your car!" Babe, you're a magnet for disaster.

Feeling sorry for yourself for one single minute is okay, but spend all your remaining time on solutions.

But his words fall away. He looks confused. He looks flustered and sorry. Like you do when you run up to someone you think you know and take her arm and she turns around and you were wrong.

He took her in his arms right away. "I'm so sorry," he murmured in her ear. He rocked her, saying it over and over. But no matter how many times he said it, no matter how much she knew he meant it, the words stirred around in her ear but didn't get into her brain. Sometimes he could comfort her. Sometimes he said what she needed, but today he couldn't reach her. Nothing could.

So many people are looking for news on the go. If you really want to understand the world, you're not going to by consuming news in the form of bite-sized haikus. I'm sorry to step up on a soapbox, but I have strong feelings about this.

Play fair. Don't hit people. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.

Words will not be able to ever express how sorry I am for this, and I have profound regret and sorrow for the multitude of mistakes and harm I have caused.

The worst of this sorry bunch of semi-educated losers are those who seem to glory in being irritated by nouns becoming verbs. How dense and deaf to language development do you have to be? If you don’t like nouns becoming verbs, then for heaven’s sake avoid Shakespeare who made a doing-word out of a thing-word every chance he got. He TABLED the motion and CHAIRED the meeting in which nouns were made verbs

Sorry, but I have plans elsewhere,” William said darkly. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, and I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” “What plans?” “Doesn’t matter why I kept you in the dark. I’m going and that’s final.” “You can’t go without me,” Gilly said. “I can and I will.” “You promised to protect me always. How can you protect me if you’re gone?” “I didn’t lie to you. I will always protect you,” William told her gently. He stood, reached for her, but realized what he was doing and dropped his arms to his sides. “You have to trust me on this.

He that is more frequent in his pulpit to his people than he is in his closet for his people, is but a sorry watchman.

No one has the right to be sorry for himself for a misfortune that strikes everyone.

Oh, ants, my sisters, good old honeydew-seekers! From close up you are sticky and shiny and gristly; and your nymphs have parasitic red mites stuck to them. You are too intent upon your chewing and gathering to listen to me, but I tell you that despite my warm feelings I really do not like you, and I cannot feel sorry for you in any way because there are too many of you and you are not cute at all. You eat too much of my forests; you are a rebellious tribe, and I will destroy you; I will poison your nests with sweet-smelling traps.

You better get over here with my car,” Grandad says. “Before I call the cops and tell them you stole it.” “Sorry,” I say contritely. Then the rest of what he said sinks in and I laugh. “Wait, did you just threaten me with calling the police? Because that I’d like to see.

Sorry, I don't eat any fast food. I believe in eating healthy organic foods for a better lifestyle.

Hard work is good for the soul, and it keeps you from feeling sorry for yourself because you don’t have time.

A being who, as I grew older, lost imagination, emotion, a type of intelligence, a way of feeling things - all that which, while it made me sorry, did not horrify me. But what am I experiencing when I read myself as if I were someone else? On which bank am I standing if I see myself in the depths?

Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he has done.

Yesterday was Election Day. If we have any Democrats in the audience, I'm sorry but you're going to have to give up your seats.

When I think of the person that I thought was Bill Clinton, I think he had genuine remorse. When I think of the person that I now see is 100 percent politician, I think he's sorry he got caught.

So I'm in the library, and I have keyboards out and my headphones out. Everybody's like, "Mike are you making beats right now?" and I'm like, "Yeah... sorry!"

I have no choice of living or dying, you see, sir--but I do have a choice of how I do it. If I tell them not to fight, they will be sorry, but they will fight. If I tell them to fight, they will be glad, and I who am not a very brave man will have made them a little braver.

I have never been sorry when I stood for what was right-even against severe criticism.

ISABEL: Sorry I missed my session Monday. DR. RUSH: Would you like to tell me why? ISABEL: I was depressed. DR. RUSH: That's a good reason to come to therapy.

I feel sorry... for people who've had skinny privilege and then have it taken away from them. I have had a lifetime to adjust to seeing how people treat women who aren't their idea of beautiful and therefore aren't their idea of useful, and I had to find ways to become useful to myself.

When I was a carpenter, I once worked with this Russian lady architect. I would tell her, ‘Look, I’m terribly sorry, but I want to change that a half inch,’ and she would say, ‘No limit for better.’ I think that is a worthy credo. You keep on going until you get it as close to being right as the time and patience of others will allow.

I'm the type of person who listens to like sad music when I'm sad to feel sadder, and to feel sorry for myself.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking such things...' She let the sentence die its own death

Don't feel sad over someone who gave up on you, feel sorry for them because they gave up on someone who would have never given up on them.

I'm sorry. I know you loved her. It was hard not to.

You know, I'm the mayor of Realville. I'm Mr. Literal. And I never saw the benefit of complaining and whining and moaning. I don't complain and whine and moan anyway, and I don't deal well with people that do. I don't know how to react to complaining, other than say, "Oh, gee, I'm sorry." I don't know how to react to whining and moaning. It kind of bothers me. So I don't do it myself. Lord knows, I got all kinds of things. I could spend the rest of this week whining and moaning if you wanted me to about things. I just don't.

I know girls who pine for it. They like to play dress-up and pretend being Vor ladies of old, rescued from menace by romantic Vor youths. For some reason they never play 'dying in childbirth', or 'vomiting your guts out from the red dysentery', or 'weaving till you go blind and crippled from arthritis and dye poisoning', or 'infanticide'. Well, they do die romantically of disease sometimes, but somehow it's always an illness that makes you interestingly pale and everyone sorry and doesn't involve losing bowel control.