Sorry To Hear Quotes & Sayings

You'll be sorry some day. Why don't you ever understand what I'm trying to tell you: it's with your six sense that you're fooled into believing not only that you have six senses, but that you contact an actual outside world with them. If it wasn't for your eyes, you wouldn't see me. If it wasn't for your ears, you wouldn't hear that airplane. If it wasn't for your nose, you wouldn't smell that midnight mint. If it wasn't for your tongue taster, you wouldn't taste the difference between A and B. If it wasn't for your body, you wouldn't feel Princess. There is no me, no airplane, no mind, no Princess, no nothing, you for krissakes do you want to go on being fooled every damn minute of your life? — Jack Kerouac

14. Indifference
I SAID, - for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,
"I'll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed;
But I'll never leave my pillow, though there be some
As would let him in - and take him in with tears!" I said.
I lay, - for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn, - 5
I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
All sorry with the tears some folks might weep! — Edna St. Vincent Millay

I replaced my lip with my thumb as my nervous chewing object. "I've taken over your workspace. Your hours. Your life."
"You've taken over the very heart of me. Blah, blah. What do you want to do about it?" He tilted his head and drew his ribbon through his fingers. "No, I'll tell you what I want. I wa-"
"I'm sorry!"
"Do you hear me complaining, Crown? Do you actually know me to do anything I don't want to do? — Anne Zoelle

I knew he was a prick, but a part of me wanted to hear what he'd say, to hear him say how sorry he really was that he'd screwed up. I wanted groveling for forgiveness and pledges of undying love. As dumb as I knew it was, I wanted him to fight for me, to prove that I hadn't made a mistake by believing in him. Or us. — Jenny O'Connell

No mother wants to hear her son say he's gay. Those two words rip the picture of a daughter-in-law and grandchildren into pieces. I felt sorry for my mom and wanted her to know everything was going to be all right. But then she said, 'I don't really care, Johnny, as long as I know that you are going to be happy.' — Johnny Weir

Charlene puts a hand on Sunny's. "I'm sorry for the things you're about to hear. I know they pertain to your brother, and it's probably going to be disturbing. I have the name of a great therapist if you happen to need one later." "I'm — Helena Hunting

Shit. Fallon! Shit, shit, shit, dammit, shit, shit." I hear Ben cursing like a sailor, but I don't understand why. I feel his hands meet my shoulders. "Fallon the Transient, wake the hell up!" I open my eyes and he's sitting up on the bed, running one hand through his hair. He looks pissed. I sit up on the bed and rub the sleep out of my eyes. The sleep. We fell asleep? I look over at my alarm clock and it reads 8:15. I reach over and pick it up to bring it closer to my face. That can't be right. But it is. It's 8:15. "Shit," I say. "We missed dinner," Ben says. "I know." "We slept for two hours." "Yeah. I know." "We wasted two fucking hours, Fallon." He looks genuinely distraught. Cute, but distraught. "I'm sorry. — Colleen Hoover

Here's one of the things I learned that morning: if you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning. It's like that old riddle about a tree falling in a forest, and whether it makes a sound if there's no one around to hear it.
You keep drawing a line farther and farther away, crossing it every time. That's how people end up stepping off the edge of the earth. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to bust out of orbit, to spin out to a place where no one can touch you. To lose yourself
to get lost.
Or maybe you wouldn't be surprised. Maybe some of you already know.
To those people, I can only say: I'm sorry. — Lauren Oliver

I think that many people do not know what empathy is. They think empathy is understanding their own selves and then connecting with like-minded individuals, who of course will understand them since they all share the same ideas. Empathy has nothing to do with likemindedness; it has to do with being able to feel the things that others feel, even when you do not share the same ideas, life story, or absolutely nothing at all! When I hear someone say, "I don't understand you", that makes me feel sorry for them. I can even understand a rock, and they can't understand me? My pet rocks have more empathy than they do. — C. JoyBell C.

I love it. Reminds me of you." "It reminds me of a man I don't like." I never want to hear it again. "I'm sorry." He nips at my neck, drawing his tongue up the length to my jawbone. "My arse is dead. — Jodi Ellen Malpas

What the hell kind of message were you supposed to send under these circumstances? Tell him I committed suicide because I couldn't bear the idea of Carnac shoving his cock down my throat and expecting me to be grateful for it? Tell him I'm going to miss him, for however long it takes them to kill me? Tell him I'm sorry that the last thing we did together was argue and not fuck? Tell him that he was the best fuck in the world?
"Tell him I ... " And his eyes started to sting from looking at her, seeing her crying for him. No one else ever had. "You're the admin - just tell him something. Whatever you think he'd like to hear. Make it sound good. — Manna Francis

Duke was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her. She got in and started the car. Duke busted into a Slim Jim of his own.
"You hairy toad fucker. That stuff's nasty. Your toilet must be like a nuclear reactor." Dove turned on her windshield wipers as a light mist seemed to fracture the glass.
"I'm sorry, Whore Basket. I couldn't hear you over the noise of you crapping your pants!" Duke took another huge bite and chewed the waxy meat like gum.
"This stuff is off the charts. I could eat vats of it. — Debra Anastasia

We're glad you're here." Brastias stood beside her now, covered in blood, the majority of which she doubted belonged to him.
"Sorry I took so long, my friend." She tested the weight of her blades. As always they felt good in her hands. She was ready.
"Where is he, Brastias?"
"Up there." He pointed to a ridge where she could hear the war cries of men. But between her and her brother lay a battery of troops screaming for her blood.
One soldier ran for her, the blood lust having grabbed hold of his mind. She brought her two swords together, stepping aside as the man's head snapped off his body.
Annwyl smiled at Brastias. "Perhaps you should let me take this from here."
She wondered what he saw on her face when she looked at him, because he visibly blanched and backed away from her. "As always, Annwyl. They're all yours."
Annwyl smiled and charged in, killing all that stood in her way and did not wear the colors of her army. — G.A. Aiken

She frowned at the message on his T-shirt: IT ONLY
SEEMS KINKY THE FIRST TIME.
"It was a gift," he said.
"From Satan?"
Something that looked almost like a smile flickered across his face and then disappeared. "You don't like it, you know what you can do about it." He
cleared another snarl of water hyacinths.
"What if a child saw that shirt?"
"Seen any kids today?" He shifted his weight slightly on the seat. "You're making me sorry I lost my favorite one." She turned back to the bow. "I
don't want to hear."
"It says, 'I'm al for gay marriage as long as both bitches are hot. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

I'm sorry about the trouble, Karen," he said, loud and clear, so everyone could hear how reasonable he was being.
She scowled up at him, eyes narrowed. Her arm flew almost faster than I could see. The smack of flesh against flesh was loud in the silence, and a small red handprint stood out starkly on his left cheek. "You have no idea how sorry you're going to be. — Rachel Vincent

Why is it that the musical public is seemingly so reluctant to consider a musical composition as, possibly, a challenging experience? When I hear a new piece of music that I do not understand I am intrigued - I want to make contact with it again at the first opportunity. It's a challenge - it keeps my interest in the art of music thoroughly alive. If, after repeated hearings, a work says nothing to me, I do not therefore conclude that modern composition is in a sorry condition. I simply conclude that that piece is not for me. — Aaron Copland

The typical response from people when I tell them I'm diabetic is, 'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.' You know, I'm not. I'm a better athlete because of diabetes rather than despite it. I'm more aware of my training, my fitness and more aware of nutrition. I'm more proactive about my health. — Charlie Kimball

Well, I'm sorry you couldn't make it either. I'm sorry I had to sit there in that church--which, by the way, had a broken air conditioner--sweating, watching all those people march down the aisle to look in my mother's casket and whisper to themselves all this mess about how much she looked like herself, even though she didn't. I'm sorry you weren't there to hear the lame choir drag out, song after song. I'm sorry you weren't there to see my dad try his best to be upbeat, cracking bad jokes in his speech, choking on his words. I'm sorry you weren't there to watch me totally lose it and explode into tears. I'm sorry you weren't there for me, but it doesn't matter, because even if you were, you wouldn't be able to feel what I feel. Nobody can. Even the preacher said so. — Jason Reynolds

Poetry, I tell my students,
is idiosyncratic. Poetry
is where we are ourselves,
(though Sterling Brown said
"Every 'I' is a dramatic 'I'")
digging in the clam flats
for the shell that snaps,
emptying the proverbial pocketbook.
Poetry is what you find
in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus, God
in the details, the only way
to get from here to there.
Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love
and I'm sorry the dog died.
Poetry (here I hear myself loudest)
is the human voice,
and are we not of interest to each other? — Elizabeth Alexander

People aren't locked doors. You can get through to them if you want.
But no one did. No one reached out a hand to Tulip. Nobody tried to touch her. I hear them whispering and they sicken me. 'Bus seats!' grumbles Mrs Bodell. 'Locker doors!' complain the teachers. 'Chicken sheds!' say the farmers. 'Greenhouses! Dustbins!' moan the neighbours. And Mum says, 'A lovely old hotel!'
But what about Tulip?
I shall feel sorry for Tulip all my life.
And guilty, too.
Guilty. — Anne Fine

The repeat is always the killer. Everything inside you goes into saying the word once, but sorry is the kind of word the person you say it to always wants to hear twice. — Courtney Summers

That's why we discourage parents from forcing kids to express sorrow before they are sincerely sorry. Your child may simply be learning how to act on the outside in order to avoid consequences. Begin as early as you can to foster an authentic faith, which is an "inside out" experience. Do this by encouraging honest expressions of what is really going on in the heart. Desire authenticity over pretense; openness over secrecy; and honest conversation over what you wish to hear. Be a loving, safe person with whom your kids can share what is really going on in their hearts. Sometimes all that is needed for a heart to repent is the opportunity to safely express the truth. — Ellen M. Schuknecht

Nick? Nick Hurley?" I asked, laughing.
He took back his hat. "You'll be sorry to hear I don't make gross faces as much as I used to. Now I'd rather smile at girls."
"I noticed"
He waved his hat around as if he was trying to dry it, his green eyes sparkling at me, as full of fun and trouble as when he was in elementary school. I realxed. — Elizabeth Chandler

Lance?" I hear him whisper in the darkness.
"Yeah, babe, I'm here."
"Come to bed."
I undress and crawl under the covers with him. His arms go around me and hold me tight.
"I love you, Rick."
"I know, baby. I'm sorry."
"Me too. — Candi Kay

I suggest you keep your distance from her and concentrate on your own work."
"I'm in love with her."
"I am sorry to hear that," he says. "It will make the challenge a great deal more difficult for you."
"We have been playing at this for more than a decade, when does it end?"
"It ends when there is a victor. — Erin Morgenstern

I am always sorry to hear that such and such a person is going to school to be educated. This is a great mistake. If the person is to get the benefit of what we call education, he must educate himself, under the direction of the teacher. — Fanny Jackson Coppin

I was very sorry to hear about your losses. Your brother was a terrible traitor, I know, but if we start killing men at weddings they'll be more frightened of marriage than they are presently. (Olenna Tyrell to Sansa Stark — George R R Martin

I am sorry, Querida." "Do not apologize." She caressed his scarred cheek as if it were beautiful. "I enjoy your kisses." He stared in awed disbelief. "Do you?" "Yes, very much." She moved closer, molding her body to his. "In fact, I want more. I want - " As much as he wanted to hear the words, he placed a finger over her lips to silence her. "We will discuss that later." When I am whole. As — Brooklyn Ann

He wrote so many letters that occasionally he would forget the name of the person he was writing to. "This is a letter to what's-his-name," he'd begin. "Jeane will know his name, ask Jeane." Jeane was our senate liaison and someone who knew nearly everyone. "Dear whoever," he would continue, "I just wanted to let you know how sorry I was to hear about your dad. I remember losing my dad when I was seventeen, and all I can say is it wasn't easy. Please know you'll be in our prayers over the coming weeks and months." I wondered if the governor would pray for somebody whose name he couldn't remember. Would he tell God to ask Jeane? — Barton Swaim

(about William Blake)
As for Blake's happiness
a man who knew him said: "If asked whether I ever knew among the intellectual, a happy man, Blake would be the only one who would immediately occur to me."
And yet this creative power in Blake did not come from ambition ... He burned most of his own work. Because he said, "I should be sorry if I had any earthly fame, for whatever natural glory a man has is so much detracted from his spiritual glory. I wish to do nothing for profit. I wish to live for art. I want nothing whatever. I am quite happy."
... He did not mind death in the least. He said that to him it was just like going into another room. On the day of his death he composed songs to his Maker and sang them for his wife to hear. Just before he died his countenance became fair, his eyes brightened and he burst into singing of the things he saw in heaven. — Brenda Ueland

DON Luigi Giussani used to quote this example from Bruce Marshall's novel To Every Man a Penny. The protagonist of the novel, the abbot Father Gaston, needs to hear the confession of a young German soldier whom the French partisans are about to sentence to death. The soldier confesses his love of women and the numerous amorous adventures he has had. The young priest explains that he has to repent to obtain forgiveness and absolution. The soldier answers, "How can I repent? It was something that I enjoyed, and if I had the chance I would do it again, even now. How can I repent?" Father Gaston, who wants to absolve the man who has been marked by destiny and who's about to die, has a stroke of inspiration and asks, "But are you sorry that you are not sorry?" The young man answers impulsively, "Yes, I am sorry that I am not sorry." In other words, he apologizes for not repenting. The door was opened just a crack, allowing absolution to come in ... . — Pope Francis

I...I'm sorry," Kylie mumbled.
"Don't you even try to talk your way out of me being pissed!" Burnett growled. "Not a word!"
"I just..."
"That's two words and I said not one!" he snapped, and he swiped his hand through the air for emphasis.
Kylie bit down on her lip, and wouldn't you know it that's when the tears started flowing. Big, fat, and fast tears. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her breath caught in her chest. But damn it. Why couldn't this have happened when she was alone?
"Those tears do not affect me, young lady!" He pointed a finger at her. While she couldn't hear his heart beat to the rhythm of a lie, she heard it in his voice.

***

"I just..."
"Did I say you could talk?" he asked. He did three more pacing laps, as if working off steam, before he looked at her again. "Where were you going, Kylie?"
When she just looked at him, he bit out, "Answer me."
"You said I couldn't talk. — C.C. Hunter

So now I just assume that it won't work, and that if it does work, I'll lose it anyway. This is meant to protect me, although it doesn't, because somehow the hope sneakily finds its way in. I'm never aware of the hope until it's gone, whooshed away like a rug pulled from under my feet, each time I hear another I'm sorry. — Liane Moriarty

I've been the sheriff here for about five years now, and I'm surprised we haven't met."
"She's been gone awhile
out to California," Trip explained.
The Sheriff nodded, replacing his hat,"Sorry to hear that. — Karen White

Sorry. You don't think he's hot?" She waited for my answer, but I was too busy choking. I just shook my head no. "That boy makes me want to turn into a jaguar." "A what?" "A jaguar. You know, a woman who goes after younger men?" She wiggled her eyebrows. "You mean a cougar?" I laughed. "Yeah, yeah, that's it. I knew it was one of those feline animals." Shoving a cookie in her mouth, a devilish grin slowly crept across her face. "What?" I asked nervously, unsure I wanted to hear the answer. "I was just thinking about that sexy, young man and what he could do to this old pussy - cat. — Beth Ehemann

I was concussed! My brain was scrambled. Whatever I said, it didn't count.
I'm sorry to hear that. I kind of liked the idea of being gorgeous.
I'm sure you already know that.
It's still nice to know that you think
so. — Kelly Oram

Gee, I'm sorry I didn't hear you in all this rain. Go ahead in, please.
Anthony Perkin's Norman Bates
Talking To Janet Leigh's Marion Crane. — Alfred Hitchcock

Drea, why don't you turn a circle and give us a good look?" the talker said, his chest all puffed out, as if he'd had something to do with making me perform.
"Fuck you," I said, nice and clear, in spite of my fuller voice, so everyone could hear.
A couple of teens near the back of the crowd laughed, but the mothers scowled and covered their children's ears.
"Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen," the talker called with an amiable chuckle. "Most of our exhibits were born and raised in the carnival, and they hear a lot of rough language."
"Most of our handlers are full of shit," I added, drawing more laughter from the back of the crowd. "I learned to cuss the same place all of your kids did. In middle school. — Rachel Vincent

Normal? I'm not normal enough for you?" Carlos says. "You want this guy instead? Did you notice his hair doesn't move? That's not normal. You want to date him again, go ahead. Hell, if you want to marry him and be Kiara Barra the rest of your life, be my guest."
"That's not want I
"
"I don't want to hear it. Hasta," Carlos says, ignoring me and walking away.
I feel my face heat in embarrassment as I look at Michael. "Sorry. Carlos can he abrasive sometimes."
"Don't apologize. The guy obviously has major issues and, for the record, my hair moves ... when I want it to. — Simone Elkeles

I cleared my throat and spoke into his kiss. "Sorry, it's been a while."
"You should expect to hear the same thing from me in about five minutes," he murmured.
"Five minutes, huh?"
"I'll make it the best five minutes of your life."
I bit his lip, hard, then released him and looked into those intense blues. "Clock's ticking. — Karina Halle

Damn," I hiss. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandpa." There's so much more I want to say. But there's some invisible barrier there between us created by the years we've spent apart. He — Julie Murphy

I know what you want to hear, doctor, but I'm sorry, you're not going to pry some sordid confession out of me. — Barbara Mujica

I take a breath. Words seem suddenly trite and useless, so I step forward and grab Elias's hands, remembering Pop. Touch heals, Laia. I hold fast to him, trying to put everything I feel into that touch. I hope your Tribe is all right. I hope they survive the Martials. I'm truly, truly sorry. It's not enough. But it's all I have. After a moment, Elias lets out a breath and leans his forehead against mine. "Tell me what you told me that night in my room at Blackcliff," he murmurs. "What your Nan used to say to you." "As long as there is life" - I can hear Nan's warm voice as I say it - "there is hope." Elias lifts his head and looks down at me, the coolness in his eyes replaced by that raw, unquenchable fire. I forget to breathe. "Don't you forget it," he says. "Ever." I nod. The minutes pass, and neither of us pull away, instead finding solace in the coolness of the night and the quiet company of the stars. — Sabaa Tahir

Who," coughed Zvonok, "do you think broke your favorite teacup last fall? The one with the cherries on the handle?"
"I was careless, Comrade Zvonok. I left the window open and a storm blew through."
"Incorrect! I broke it because you left me no cream and no dry biscuits, and when your old boots wore through, you burned them up for heat instead of giving them to me!"
"Hear, hear!" the table erupted in approval once more. "Well done, well done!"
"I'm surely very sorry
"
"So is your teacup. — Catherynne M Valente

But let's not be casual about this body, okay?" She nuzzled him back. "It may be your soul that I love, but I'm pretty keen on its vessel, too."
Her voice had dropped lower as she spoke, and his response was low and husky in kind. "I can't say I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and brushed his face past hers to kiss a place beneath her ear, sending instant, electric frissons coursing through her body. — Laini Taylor

I called you because I wanted to hear your voice," I said. "You're learning," Sig observed. "You didn't miss a beat there." "Buy toothpaste." "What?" Sig asked. "Oops, sorry," I said. "I read off the wrong note card." She — Elliott James

And Casey said, "We could go get a pizza and a beer, maybe? If you wanted to."
And this. This was on the list. Gus was prepared for this. And before he could think it through, Gus said, "Hey, bro, I have a better idea. Let's go try that heart-healthy vegan restaurant that just opened over on Main Street. I hear their crispy kale and tofu salad is the bomb."
Lottie dropped the smoothie she was making. It exploded as soon as it hit the ground, berry juice spraying all over her. "Sorry," she exclaimed. "So sorry! It just slipped!"
Gus didn't pay much attention because he was in the throes of realizing two things at once: first, no new heart-healthy vegan restaurant has opened in Abby, much less on Main Street. And two, being normal was a lot harder than it looked because what the hell had he just done? — T.J. Klune

Captain Carswell Thorne, is it?"
"That's right."
"I'm afraid you won't have claim to that title for long. I'm about to commandeer your Rampion for the queen."
"I am sorry to hear about that."
"Additionally, I assume you are aware that assisting a wanted fugitive, such as Linh Cinder, is a crime punishable by death on Luna. Your sentence is to be carried out immediately."
"Efficiency. I respect that. — Marissa Meyer

Ari!" Jeb had finally seen his son. He rushed to Ari's side and knelt next to him. Looking stunned, he gathered Ari's hulking form and held him to his chest. "I'm so sorry." I saw his mouth shape the words, though I couldn't hear them. "I'm so sorry." He bent over Ari's form, mindless of his vulnerable position. — James Patterson

And I - my head oppressed by horror - said:
"Master, what is it that I hear? Who are
those people so defeated by their pain?"
And he to me: "This miserable way
is taken by the sorry souls of those
who lived without disgrace and without praise.
They now commingle with the coward angels,
the company of those who were not rebels
nor faithful to their God, but stood apart.
The heavens, that their beauty not be lessened,
have cast them out, nor will deep Hell receive them
even the wicked cannot glory in them. — Dante Alighieri

Oh, I know. They're dwarfs pretending to be elves.
No, they're not dwarfs either.
Okay, okay, they're "little people," I'm sorry! Can't believe I have to be politically correct when you're the only one who can hear me. — Kevin Hearne

Po's been sick, you know." "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, with no expression. "Don't be an ass. He's actually been quite unwell. — Kristin Cashore

Shut up. Take down your pants. I'm going to mark you as mine."
Nick squeaked and held onto his belt, fighting Damian for possession of it. "Here? Everyone will hear. They'll know!"
"I want them to know," Damian said, winning the wrestling match for the belt as was inevitable that he would.
"London!" Nick gasped. "London!"
Damian stopped, his eyes clearing as he noticed how terrified Nick looked. After a long minute, he pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you'd like it. — Catt Ford

With a tremendous effort, Areop-Enap opened all its eyes. " I am sorry to leave you alone and defenseless."
Perenelle sealed the spider Elder into the huge cocoon of web, then turned and strode across the room. The tiniest breeze swept the floor clean before her. " I am Perenelle Flamel, the Sorceress,"she said aloud, unsure whether Aerop-Enap could hear her. "And I am never defenseless. — Michael Scott

It is the individual voice, present to itself, that needs to be heard. We need to hear the process of the musician working on himself. We don't need to hear who is more clever with synthesizers. Our cleverness has created the world we live in, which in many ways, we're sorry about. — Keith Jarrett

It was Henry's nature to listen, and many times during the week he would say, 'Gosh, I'm awful sorry to hear that, ' or 'Say, isn't that something? — Elizabeth Strout

Dear David, I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen the way we planned it. I can't do it. I know you're just going to think I'm being a stupid teenager, but this is my life and if I'm going to be here for years, I have to do this my way. I'll still be able to do my job from outside of Erudite. So tomorrow, at the Choosing Ceremony, Andrew and I are going to choose Abnegation together. I hope you're not angry. I guess even if you are, I won't hear about it. - Natalie — Veronica Roth

We're lucky Esme thought to add an extra room. No one was planning for Ness-Renesmee."
I frowned at him, my thoughts channeled down a less pleasant path.
"Not you too," I complained.
"Sorry, love. I hear it in their thoughts all the time, you know. It's rubbing off on me.
I sighed. My baby, the sea serpent. Maybe there was no help for it. Well, I wasn't giving in. — Stephenie Meyer

I'll answer that.' He took a deep breath, and I could see his eyes searching mine, like he was looking for an answer. 'I had thought that was the ending,' he finally said. 'But I might have been wrong.'
'I was just thinking,' I said, sure that the rest of the crowd could probably hear how hard my heart was beating, since it seemed deafening to me, pounding in my ears, 'that maybe Marjorie realized she was in love with Karl. And told him that. And said she was sorry for being scared. — Morgan Matson

Has a girl ever faked an orgasm with you?" I blurt out. It's eight o'clock on Monday morning, and I nervously tap my fingers on the kitchen counter as I look at my roommate.

Dean, who was on his way to the fridge, stops in his tracks so abruptly that if he'd been on skates, I would be wiping ice shavings off my face right now.

"I'm sorry, didn't hear you. What was that? — Elle Kennedy

Lord John: 'The court has suffered most sorely for your absence. We hardly know where to find our amusement now.'
Lady Nora: 'I am sorry to hear that, I suppose it takes some wit to produce one's own entertainment. Are you often bored? — Meredith Duran

I couldn't stop then. Between the sobs I kept saying, over and over again, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." "Shhhh. It's okay to cry. It's okay." And she rocked me and rocked me. But while she was saying it was okay, I could hear my Dad's voice, Crybaby, crybaby. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I'll give you something to cry about. And I couldn't help saying, "I'm sorry." Still, the tears and sobs went on and on. — Steven Gould

God forgive me, I was sorry to hear that Sir W Pens maid Betty was gone away yesterday, for I was in hopes to have had a bout with her before she had gone, she being very pretty. I have also a mind to my own wench, but I dare not, for fear she should prove honest and refuse and then tell my wife. — Samuel Pepys

Apologies; our cultural obsession with them isn't about actually being offended, or simply needing to hear, "I'm sorry." It's not really about right or wrong. It's about wanting to throw a rock in the dark and hear something break. — Jim Norton

Nobody wants to hear about process. They want to hear about results. They want to be inspired. They want to aspire to something. And so often in our communication, we will explain why - sorry, we will explain how but not why. — Frank Luntz

Leela: Why are we listening to them? It is a waste of time.
The Doctor; It is difficult to know what will be a waste of time until after the time has been wasted, by which time it is too late. So predicting what will be a waste of time is something of a waste of time. Unless it gives you pleasure of course when it probably doesn't count as a waste of time.
Leela (yawning): I am sorry I did not hear what you said, Doctor.
The Doctor (smiling): That was a waste of time then. — Chris Boucher

I began to get notes from people saying they were sorry to hear I'd left ministry. And for a while, I halfway believed they were right, that I'd left. — Barbara Brown Taylor

There is a foundation for our lives, a place in which our life rests. That place is nothing but the present moment, as we see, hear, experience what is. If we do not return to that place, we live our lives out of our heads. We blame others; we complain; we feel sorry for ourselves. All of these symptoms show that we're stuck in our thoughts. We're out of touch with the open space that is always right here. — Charlotte Joko Beck

Jedediah pulled out his pocketknife, reached over her, and snipped the rose to place in her hair. "Looks better there." In the moonlight, he wasn't sure if she blushed or not. Her eyes seemed all soft and glowing, her lips the color of the pink rose, slightly parted and tempting him. Before he knew what he was doing, his arms had circled her in a swift embrace. Heat filled his face, and his heart pounded so hard he was sure Patience could hear it. Would she let him kiss her? But she was already pulling away, visibly shaken. Her fingers touched her hair, patting it into place, and her eyes, large with surprise, looked into his, then quickly away. "I . . . Jed . . . I think we'd better go back inside and join the party." "I'm - I'm truly sorry, Patience. I don't know . . . I'm not sure what came over me just now. It must be the moonlight and the roses." And you, he said only to himself. — Maggie Brendan

Kalmar nodded. "I'm sorry, Papa. I wasn't strong enough."
"None of us are, lad. Me least of all." Esben smiled and took a rattling breath. "But it's weakness that the Maker turns to strength. Your fur is why you alone loved a dying cloven. You alone in all the world knew my need and ministered to my wounds." Esben pulled Kalmar closer and kissed him on the head. "And in my weakness, I alone know your need. Hear me, son. I loved you when you were born. I loved you when I wept in the Deeps of Throg. I loved you even as you sang the song that broke you. And I love you now in the glory of your humility. You're more fit to be the king than I ever was. Do you understand?"
Kalmar shook his head.
Esben smiled and shuddered with pain. "A good answer, my boy. Then do you believe that I love you?"
"Yes, sir. I believe you." Kalmar buried his face in his father's fur.
"Remember that in the days to come. Nia, Janner, Leeli - help him to remember. — Andrew Peterson

I'm sorry," I said softly, but loud enough for him to hear. "I've been to my fair share of exhibitions, only yours made my heart hurt because my system couldn't process the beauty that met my eyes. — Kristen Ashley

My father gave me a ruined boy to compensate for the fact that he does not love me.
The boy is fragile, broken - broke himself - broke everything.
I asked him why he did it. He said because the world was unlivable. He said it was unlovable, but I think he meant himself. I think he meant that loneliness is sometimes painful.
I curl against him, tuck my head beneath his chin and listen to his heart. It says stay and wait. It says regret. He knows what it is to want love, a love so fierce you grow roots. I hear his heart say please.
He went looking for angels and found me instead, girl of the sorrows, sad but not sorry. I waited for a sign, a star to fall. He reached for a knife and drew branches. — Brenna Yovanoff

What did you tell them?"
"I don't recall. I think I mentioned your discipline and ability to follow orders. I may have said something about you being a team player."
Derek emitted a strangled cough.
"Why?" I demanded.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Curran resumed hammering.
"I'm sorry," I said into the phone, sticking me finger into my other ear so I could hear. "His Majesty tends to exaggerate things. I'm not a team player. I'm undisciplined and I have a problem with authority. Also, the Beast Lord can't hammer for shit."
On the roof Derek was laughing his head off. — Ilona Andrews

I am very sorry to know and hear how unreverently that most precious jewel, the Word of God, is disputed, rhymed, sung and jangled in every ale-house and tavern, contrary to the true meaning and doctrine of the same. — King Edward VIII

I am so sorry to hear of Asher's passing. I will miss his scientific insight and advice, but even more his humor and stubborn integrity. I remember when one of his colleagues complained about Asher's always rejecting his manuscript when they were sent to him to referee. Asher said in effect, 'You should thank me. I am only trying to protect your reputation.' He often pretended to consult me, a fellow atheist, on matters of religious protocol.

{Charles H. Bennett's letter written to the family of Israeli physicist, Asher Peres} — Charles H. Bennett

You have no reason to be sorry for anything, ma petite."
Her clenched fist lay over his heart, the three diamonds in her palm. "You think I can't read your body? Feel the heaviness in your mind as you try to shield me? I can't change who I am, not even for you. I know I'm failing you, causing you discomfort."
A slow smile curved his mouth. Discomfort. Now,there was a word for it. His hand crushed her hair, ran it through his fingers. "I have never asked you to change, nor would I want you to. You seem to forget that I know you better than anyone. I can handle you."
She turned her head so that he could see the silver stars flashing in her blue eyes, a smoldering warning. "You are so arrogant,Gregori, it makes me want to throw things.Do you hear yourself? Handle me? Ha! I try to say I'm sorry for failing you, and you act the lord of the manor. Being born centuries ago when women were chattel does not give you an excuse. — Christine Feehan

Even though you may not want to hear it, I want you to know that you'll always be a part of me. In our time together, you claimed a special place in my heart, one I'll carry with me forever and that no one can ever replace. You're a hero and a gentleman, you're kind and honest, but more than that, you're the first man I ever truly loved. And no matter what the future brings, you always will be, and I know that my life is better for it. I'm so sorry - Savannah — Nicholas Sparks

It can't be done, old thing. Sorry, but it's out of the question. I couldn't go through all that again."
"Not for me?"
"Not for a dozen more like you."
"I never thought," said Bingo sorrowfully, "to hear those words from Bertie Wooster!"
"Well, you've heard them now," I said. "Paste them in your hat."
"Bertie, we were at school together."
"It wasn't my fault."
"We've been pals for fifteen years."
"I know. It's going to take me the rest of my life to live it down. — P.G. Wodehouse

But I'll still say it, as many times as you need to hear it-I'm sorry, Carolina. — Jaci Burton

No, I don't do drugs anymore, either. But I'll tell you something about drugs. I used to do drugs, but I'll tell you something honestly about drugs, honestly, and I know it's not a very popular idea, you don't hear it very often anymore, but it is the truth: I had a great time doing drugs. Sorry. Never murdered anyone, never robbed anyone, never raped anyone, never beat anyone, never lost a job, a car, a house, a wife or kids, laughed my ass off, and went about my day. — Bill Hicks

If Arnold is elected, you know who I'd feel sorry for? The people on death row. Imagine, you're about to be executed, the governor calls, you think it's your reprieve, and you hear 'Hasta la vista, baby.' — Jay Leno

Sorry to hear about your Dad."
He shrugged. "He was seventy, and we always told him fast food would kill him."
"Heart attack?"
"He was hit by a Pizza Express truck. — J.A. Konrath

Where is your mother, Charlie asked. Dead. I'm sorry to hear that Thank you. But she was always dead. — Patrick DeWitt

There was a time when I could walk down the street, Hollywood Boulevard or Beverly Drive, and somebody would come up to you and they would say, "Excuse me," and you'd barely hear them, and you'd turn around and you'd say, "Yeah, how you doing?" and they'd say, "I'm really sorry to bother you, but my aunt is a big fan of yours, and would you mind terribly if you'd just sign this paper," or whatever it is, and you're happy to do that, and the people are pretty nice about it. — Billy Bob Thornton

I'm so sorry. I always felt like there was something off about me, and now I know. I'm broken."
It wrecked me all over again to hear her say that.
"You're not broken."
"Then how come I can't be fixed?" she asked, shaking as she held back tears. "If I'm not broken, how come no one can fix me? — Robyn Schneider

Joshua walked to the back of the tent.Caroline and Savannah were there but had their backs to him. They were bent over,an he could hear a wailing and he knew it was coming from Livvy. ...The wailing stopped as Livvy looked up and saw her father. Then there was a horrified howl."Daddy!Not dressed!"
Oh!Sorry."...
Livvy, Papa nhas to go help some people. Can I come kiss you goodbye?"
There was another howl."Daddy,NOT DRESSED!"
Can I blow you a kiss?"
Eyes Closed?"
I promise."
He closed his eyes and turned around, than blew her a kiss. He then opened his eyes. "I think your'e kindof cute, actually.
DADDY!! — Gerald N. Lund

You're not paying attention to me, are you?"
"Eh? What's that? Sorry, love, I didn't hear you. Wasn't paying attention. I had my eyes on your perfectly formed arse."
Catherine fixed him with a glare worthy of a Scottish schoolmaster. "This is serious business Jamie. If you've to pass for a Highlander, you've got to get the kilt just so,"
"Bah! You're a hoydenish vixen. You just want to ogle my knees."
"Nonsense. I'm sure you'll find the ah... freedom and... utility very appealing once you try it on."
"You mean you think I'll like the feel of the family jewels waving free?" Blushing, she spread both great kilts on the ground. "One lays down on it like so. Oh stop grinning, Jamie, and do try."
She was so earnest and eager in her lesson that he hadn't the heart to tell her he'd worn a kilt a time or two before. — Judith James

Tell her I'm sorry I sold the diamond, eh?" Sammy said. "I broke my promise. When she disappeared in Alaska ... ah, so long ago, I finally used that diamond, moved to Texas as I always dreamed. I started my machine shop. Started my family! It was a good life, but Haze; was right. The diamond came with a curse. I never saw her again."
"Oh, Sammy," Hazel said. "No, a curse didn't keep me away. I wanted to come back. I died!"
The old man didn't seem to hear. He smiled down at the baby, and kissed him on the head. "I give you my blessing, Leo. First male great-grandchild! I have a feeling you are special, like Hazel was. You are more than a regular baby, eh? You will carry on for me. You will see her someday. Tell her hello for me. — Rick Riordan

You're beautiful, Sid,' he says, pushing my hair out of my face. 'And I never said it at first because it seemed so obvious to me, so easy. I didn't say it because I never wanted you to think the things I say to you are just things. Empty compliments to get in your pants. I wanted the things I say to you to be extraordinary, because that's what you are to me. Extraordinary. And I'm so sorry I didn't say it sooner, because I think you need to hear it. You were beautiful a year ago and you're beautiful now. — Colleen Clayton

Elsie started to tell a lie she knew her husband wanted to hear. I don't love Buddy. I love you. To her astonishment, what came out was "I'm sorry." When she realized what she had said, she tried to tell her lie again but it still came out the same. "I'm sorry." "So — Homer Hickam

The only way we can ever teach a child to say "I'm sorry" is for him to hear it from our lips first. — Kevin Leman

I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, knowing she couldn't hear. I'm so sorry."
Her mouth moved, working to speak, and he leaned in to make out what she was trying to say.
"Me ... too," she whispered. "I only ever ... cared for ... — James Dashner

He lay in bed staring upward into the darkness. On the bunk above him, he could hear Peter turning and tossing restlessly. Then Peter slid off the bunk and walked out of the room. Ender heard the hushing sound of the toilet clearing; then Peter stood silhouetted in the doorway. He thinks I'm asleep. He's going to kill me. Peter walked to the bed, and sure enough, he did not lift himself up to his bed. Instead he came and stood by Ender's head. But he did not reach for a pillow to smother Ender. He did not have a weapon. He whispered, "Ender, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know how it feels, I'm sorry, I'm your brother, I love you." A long time later, Peter's even breathing said that he was asleep. Ender peeled the bandaid from his neck. And for the second time that day he cried. — Orson Scott Card

We are so sorry to hear the sad news. He(She) will be Always in our thoughts, Forever in our prayers Eternally in our memories — Margaret Jones

On the other hand it is probably safe to assume that Rembrandt and Spinoza surely would have at least passed on the street, now and again.
Or even run into each other quite frequently, if only at some neighborhood shop or other.
And certainly they would have exchanged amenities as well, after a time.
Good morning, Rembrandt. Good morning to you, Spinoza.
I was extremely sorry to hear about your bankruptcy, Rembrandt. I was extremely sorry to hear about your excommunication, Spinoza.
Do have a good day, Rembrandt. Do have the same, Spinoza.
All of this would have been said in Dutch, incidentally.
I mention that simply because it is known that Rembrandt did not speak any other language except Dutch.
Even if Spinoza may have preferred Latin. Or Jewish. — David Markson

Claire scraped her chair back, walked over to the cordless phone lying on the counter, and dialed from the business card still stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet. Four rings, and a cheerful voice answered on the other end and announced she'd reached Common Grounds. "Hi,'" Claire said. "Can I talk to Sam, please?'"
"Sam? Hold on.'" The phone clattered, and Claire could hear the buzz of activity in the background - milk being steamed, people chatting, the usual excitement of a busy coffee shop. She waited, jittering one leg impatiently, until the voice came back on the line. "Sorry,'" it said. "He's not here tonight. I think he went to the party.'"
"The party?'"
"You know, the zombie frat party? Epsilon Epsilon Kappa? The Dead Girls' Dance?'"
"Thanks,'" Claire said. She hung up and turned to face Michael and Eve, who were staring at her in outright surprise. She held up the phone. "The power of technology. Embrace it. — Rachel Caine

I also think Valkyire's ex-boyfriend will come in handy here."
Ravel frowned, "The dead vampire?"
Valkyrie glared at him, "I think he means Fletcher."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Caelen was never my boyfriend."
"I didn't mean to-"
"We never talk about Caelen," Ghastly muttered."
"I'm really sorry, Valkyrie, Ravel said. "Fletcher's great. He's wonderful. I'm sure he'd be delighted to help, and having a teleporter here will certainly solve some problems. We'll arrange that, we'll get him over to you, start the ball rolling, as it were. Once again, sorry about bringing up the vampire."
Ghastly shot him a look whispered, "Why do you keep talking about him?"
"I can't help it," Ravel whispered back. "Now he's all I can think about."
"You realise," Valkyrie said, "that we can hear you both perfectly well. — Derek Landy

No matter how many times you say you're sorry, somebody is not going to hear you. — Pete Rose

[she felt] sorry for herself, for getting older, for being mortal, for all the music she still wanted to hear, the books she intended to read, the places she had meant to visit, the things she had promised herself she'd learn one day [ ... ] and probably never would because time was beginning to feel like a fast express train that no longer stopped at all the stations. — Francesca Marciano

She stared up at him, and her eyes were so large they looked like blue mint candies. 'I get to stay?'
'You're damn right you're staying, and I don't want to hear another word of disrespect.' His voice broke. 'I'm your father, and you damn well better love me the same way I love you, or you'll be sorry.'
The next thing he knew, he was grabbing her, and she was grabbing him, and all the bozos coming down the jerway trying to get past them were jabbing them with bags and briefcases, but he didn't care. He was holding tight to this daughter he loved so desperately, and he wasn't ever going to let her go. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips