Quotes About Sacrifice

You will have to be," Isabelle said. "For Sophie." Vianne drew in a breath. And there it was. The reason she couldn't eat a bowl of arsenic or throw herself in front of a train.

A man. It was always about the men. They seem to think it meant nothing to cook and clean and bear children and tend gardens. But we women of the Great Plains worked from sunup to sundown, too, toiled on wheat farms until we were as dry and baked as the land we loved.

I'm going to go in. Meredith will need some help. Don't stay out here too long." "Why not?" her mother said, staring at the copper column. "You'll catch pneumonia." "You think I could die from the cold? I am not a lucky woman.

The father who went off to war was not the one who came home. She had tried to be loved by him; more important, she had tried to keep loving him, but in the end, one was as impossible as the other. In

I can't," Mama finally said, and Leni thought they were the saddest, most pathetic words she'd ever heard.

women make choices for others, not for ourselves, and when we are mothers, we . . . bear what we must for our children. You will protect them. It will hurt you; it will hurt them. Your job is to hide that your heart is breaking and do what they need you to do.

You're always talking about my future. Your big dreams for me. College. How do you think I'm going to get there, Mom? By picking cotton in the fall and starving in the winter? By living on the dole?" Loreda moved forward. "Think about the women who fought for the vote. They had to be scared, too, but they marched for change, even if it meant going to jail. And now we can vote. Sometimes the end is worth any sacrifice.

He was trying to make it up to her, asking for forgiveness and seeking redemption all at once, sacrificing himself for her. It was a glimpse of who he'd once been, the poet her maman had fallen in love with. That man, the one before the war, might have known another way, might have found the perfect words to heal their fractured past.

They both understood; every at-home mom in the world understood. Ultimately there were prices to be paid for the choices a woman made.

Mama had chosen to dig for treasure through the dirt of Dad's toxic, porous love, but not Leni. Not anymore.

Kate placed her hand on her mother's. They both understood; every at-home mom in the world understood. Ultimately there were prices to be paid for the choices a woman made. "You're my hero, Mom," Kate said simply.

He thinks one's life can be distilled to a narrative that has a beginning and an end. He knows nothing about the kind of sacrifice that, once made, can never be either fully forgotten or fully borne. And how could he? I have protected him from all of that.

Men tell stories," I say. It is the truest, simplest answer to his question. "Women get on with it. For us it was a shadow war. There were no parades for us when it was over, no medals or mentions in history books. We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over. Your sister was as desperate to forget it as I was. Maybe that was another mistake I made—letting her forget. Maybe we should have talked about it.

why add love to the list?" "Love," Isabelle said quietly. "I will add this, though, since I am a mother and we can't help ourselves: A broken heart hurts as badly in wartime as in peace. Say good-bye to your young man well.

novel and in researching it.

Kristin Hannah

protest. Vianne was not alone in her desire to pretend

Kristin Hannah

This is no place for anyone," Vianne

She knew now what she hadn't known before, hadn't even suspected: she would do anything, suffer anything, to be loved, even if it was just for a night.

But what if you wanted them more than you wanted a singular, powerful you? No one ever talked about that.

that way, we all understand sacrifice. It's no surprise that I'm a romantic, and to me, there's nothing more romantic than a husband and wife falling back in love with each other.

Kristin Hannah

A man. It was always about the men. They seem to think it meant nothing to cook and clean and bear children and tend gardens. But we women of the Great Plains worked from sunup to sundown, too, toiled on wheat farms until we were as dry and baked as the land we loved. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I swear I can still taste the dust.