Selected quotes on forgiveness:

President Spencer W. Kimball:

Yes, to be in the right we must forgive, and we must do so without regard to whether of not our antagonist repents, or how sincere is his transformation, or whether or not he asks our forgiveness... Sometimes the spirit of forgiveness is carried to the loftiest height-to rendering assistance to the offender. Not to be revengeful, not to seek what outraged justice might demand, to leave the offender in God's hands- this is admirable. But to return good for evil, this is the sublime expression of Christian Love." (The Miracle of Forgiveness, p. 284)

Charles Dickens:

Remember!-It is Christianity TO DO GOOD always-even to those who do evil to us ...It is Christianity to be gentle, merciful, and forgiving....) (The Life of Our Lord, 1934, pp. 125-127)

H. Burke Peterson:

... Ofttimes we choose to decide when a person has repented, and when we will forgive. We have been told mankind will be judged on the intent of the heart. No mortal can see into the depth of another. There is only One who can. His is the role of a judge—not ours. If you are prone to criticize or judge, remember, we never see the target a man aims at in life. We see only what he hits ...The human soul seldom reaches such heights of strength or nobility as when it removes all resentments and forgives error or malice. No one can be classed as a true follower of the Savior who is not in the process of removing from his heart and mind every feeling of ill will, bitterness, hatred, envy, or jealousy toward another. (“Removing the Poison of an Unforgiving Spirit,” Ensign, Nov. 1983, 59)

President Spencer W. Kimball

The essence of the miracle of forgiveness is that it brings peace to the previously anxious, restless, frustrated, perhaps tormented soul. (The Miracle of Forgiveness, p. 363)

The chapter from the book Forgiveness by Dr. Sidney B. Simon and Suzanne Simon.

   We stood around the casket, my brother, my sister, and I, gazing down at what remained for the man whom we had always loved but sometimes hated, who we tried to respect but for so many years feared and avoided. He barely resembled the formidable giant who wielded so much power over us when we were children. He had been seriously ill for a long, long time.
    I cannot tell you what my brother and sister were thinking as they stood beside me in that dimly lit funeral parlor. I, however, was remembering the man who adored my mother, who would lean over to kiss her outstretched arm while she poured his coffee and played footsie with her under the dinner table. I was thinking about  the man who had been a skilled craftsman, and imaginative storyteller, and avid reader, and an exceptional gardener. And with this last talent in mind, I broke the silence. 
    "I thought we could bury these with dad," I said, reaching into my pocket to retrieve a gift I tearfully bought soon after receiving the news of his death. Both my brother and my sister laughed out loud when they saw what I held, a half-dozen packets of seeds, the very same kind our dad planted each spring for as far back as any of us could remember. Reminiscing about our dad's prize tomatoes and how no salad had ever tasted quite as good ad the ones made from the vegetables he grew, we tucked the seed packets into his pockets and around his body. Sharing a joyful moment in the midst of an otherwise solemn occasion, we smiled affectionately and chuckled as we whispered to each other about visiting our father's grave and finding it magnificent garden growing on it. We did not defame this man who was our father. We celebrated him.
    Yes, this was a fitting send-off for a man who cultivated the tastiest tomatoes on Long Island. But it was also much more than that. It was a tribute to the healing his children had done during the years preceding his death.
    You see, when we were young, Dad came into our bedrooms and sexually molested us. At other times, he exploded into violent rages, lashing out at us in anger and frustration. Yes this man did some horrible things to use when we were children, and we had not forgotten that.
    If fact, had our dad died three or five or ten years earlier, we might have stayed away from his funeral altogether, and if, out of duty, we had attended it, we would not have been able to see anything good in him. We could not have acknowledged that there was more to him than the abuse he perpetrated or that we were more than the victims of his abuse. Instead of tranquility and affectionate laughter, there would have been bitter tears and stone-cold silence, resentment, pain, anger, regret. We might have condemned him to rot in hell and condemned ourselves to more years of hiding, hating, and hurting. But instead, we walked away from his coffin knowing that he would rest in peace and even more important, that we would to on living at peace with ourselves. 
    What made the difference for us? Forgiveness.
    Perhaps you are shaking your head in disbelief right now and wondering how anyone could truly forgive something as unspeakable as incest. You may even be asking yourself why anyone would want to. The truth is that we did not want to or set out to forgive. All we ever wanted was for pain from the past to stop interfering with our lives and our happiness in the present. To accomplish that, my sister, my brother, and I, each in our own way, worked through our pain and let go of it.
    We did not and never will forget what had happened to us. We did not and never will condone our father's actions. Nothing could alter the fact that how he treated us was no way to treat little kids. Yet before our dad died, according to our own needs and our own time frames, each of us reached a point where we no longer needed to make him pay for what he had done. We stopped expecting him to make up for it. W stopped using incest as an excuse for everything that was wrong with our lives. And we stopped waiting for our parents to give us adults what we did not receive from them as children. We let go. We healed. And yes, we forgave.

Michael's Story on Forgiveness from the book Mind Body and the chapter Forgiveness and Physical Healing, pp. 201-203.

  Michael is a thirty-six-year-old composer and musician who does competitive pistol shooting for a hobby.

    About a year ago I was heavily involved in pistol shooting competitions. I had gone undefeated for about six months and was breaking all of the standing records, when one day after a match, I noticed that my wrist was hurting. The pain continued to worsen match after match until it began to affect my piano playing as well. I could no longer play octaves with my left hand, and then, after a while, I couldn't even play scales. Finally, I had to abandon both shooting and piano playing due to the pain.
    At that point, I went on a search for a cure. First I went to a sports medicine orthopedic doctor, who essentially picked up my hand and said, "Oh, you've got tendonitis. Here." He threw a generic splint at me and prescribed an anti-inflammatory drug. I tried that for months, but it didn't' even touch the pain. Then I went to a hand surgeon who felt I had damaged the collagen in my wrist. He is turn referred me to a hand therapist, who rediagnosed me as having tendonitis and made a custom-made, Plexiglas splint for my arm. She told me to continue taking the anti-inflammatory drugs and not to use my wrists or hand for four or six weeks. Although I was a very good patient and never so much as tried to use my wrist, the pain was untouched. 
    One night, I happened to go to a talk by Dr. Joan Borysenko, the noted mind-body specialist, on the topic of guilt and forgiveness. After listening to some of the case histories that she reported, I began to reflect on the circumstances surrounding the onset of the pain in my wrist. It occurred to me that around the time the pain started, I had been feeling very guilty about my shooting. I had been winning competitions so consistently that I had began to feel a lot of pressure to stay on top. In order to do that, I had started cheating. After I started the cheating, shooting wasn't fun for me anymore, but I was stuck in a bind and couldn't seem to give it up. Right around that time, the pain began.
    It occurred to me that there might be a connection here, so that night I decided to go back to shooting, sore hand and all. Only this time I would shoot very conservatively, following he letter of the rules exactly, and I would accept whatever the outcome was. Well, I was surprised to find that first of all, my scores didn't suffer at all when I went back. I won easily, which was very nice. But more surprisingly, from that night on, my hand and wrist began to feel better.
    I think my body had been sending up a red flag trying to let me know that cheating was unacceptable to myself on a very deep level. Once I recognized the signal, forgave myself for falling into a trap, and rectified my behavior, my wrists healed. My wrist has now been pain free for over six months. Once again I play the piano and shoot at the pistol range with no discomfort.
    For me, what was required was forgiving myself and offering myself permission to come in last in the competition if need be. Now, I feel vindicated. I feel that I'm on the right side of the competition and of my own morality.

Corrie's StoryT  from the book Forgiveness by Dr. Sidney B. Simon and Suzanne Simon

    The following story of Corrie Ten Boom offers another powerful demonstration of how forgiveness can be given even when we feel we cannot forgive of our own free will. Her heart assured her that everyone is forgivable, yet she couldn't seem to access what was needed for forgiving to be authentic. 
    The story of Corrie Ten Boom and her family is sold in her book The Hiding Place. Corrie, her sister Betsy, and the rest of her family played a key role in the Nazi resistance in Holland. The Ten Booms were devout Christians who, because of their loving spirit, provided care, food, strength, and a place to hide for as many Jews fleeing Hitler's forces as they possibly could. Discovered by the Nazis, the entire Ten Boom family was sent to the concentration camps for years. Like others, they were subjected to the most inhumane conditions. Corrie's father and sister died in the camps. Corrie survived and, despite having lived through the most horrendous of circumstances, went on to teach the message of faith in God's abiding love-- as she and Betsy had done in the camps whenever they got the chance.

    It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there--the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsy's pain -blanched face.
    He came up to me as the church was emptying beaming, and bowing. "How grateful I am for your message. Fraulein," he said. "To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!"
    His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal  the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.
    Even as the anger, vengeful thoughts boiled through me I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for his man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed forgive me and help me to forgive him.
    I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I cod not I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.
    As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a loved for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
    And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that world's healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies. He gives, along with the command, the love itself.

 Spencer W. Kimball, The Miracle of Forgiveness [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1969]. pp.281-282.