Quotes About Sacrifice

Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels, I would go up and wash them from sweet wells, Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.

Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.

At sixty, I worshiped her with the volcanic ardour of eighteen. All the gold of my rich nature was poured hopelessly at her feet. My wife – poor angel! – my wife, who adores me, got nothing but the shillings and the pennies. Such is the Work, such Man, such Love. What are we (I ask) but puppets in a show-box? Oh, omnipotent Destiny, pull our strings gently! Dance us mercifully off our miserable little stage!

They have tried to make me forget everything, Walter; but I remember Marian, and I remember you'--in that moment, I, who had long since given her my love, gave her my life, and thanked God that it was mine to bestow on her.

No man under heaven deserves these sacrifices from us women. Men! They are the enemies of our innocence and our peace—they drag us away from our parents' love and our sisters' friendship—they take us body and soul to themselves, and fasten our helpless lives to theirs as they chain up a dog to his kennel. And what does the best of them give us in return?

No man under heaven deserves these sacrifices from us women. Men! They are the enemies of our innocence and our peace—they drag us away from our parents' love and our sisters' friendship—they take us body and soul to themselves, and fasten our helpless lives to theirs as they chain up a dog to his kennel. And what does the best of them give us in return? Let me go, Laura—I'm mad when I think of it!

Only give a woman love, and there is nothing she will not venture, suffer, and do.

It is true that love soars higher than the other passions; but it can stoop lower as well.

No man under heaven deserves these sacrifices from us women. Men! They are the enemies of our innocence and our peace—they drag us away from our parents' love and our sisters' friendship—they take us body and soul to themselves, and fasten our helpless lives to theirs as they chain up a dog to his kennel. And what does the best of them give us in return?

I said, No man is worth fretting for in that way. And she said, There are men worth dying for, Lucy, and he is one of them.

It is a habit of mine always to give up to Miss Halcombe. I find, by experience, that it saves noise.

In some way the god had to be appeased and satisfied; for his worshipers had made him in the image and dream of themselves, and he had no great regard for human life, or womanly tears.

Those who desire immortality must pay for it with their lives.

Saint-Lambert, it is all for thee The flower grows; The rose's thorns are all for me; For thee the rose.

To check the growth of inequality, liberty must be sacrificed[.]

a man's maturity pays the price of his youth.

Even though it consumes us in its service and overwhelms us with tragedy, even though it breaks us down with separations, let it be first. How can it matter what price we pay for love?

Most Romans defended the gladiatorial games on the ground that the victims had been condemned to death for serious crimes, that the sufferings they endured acted as a deterrent to others, that the courage with which the doomed men were trained to face wounds and death inspired the people to Spartan virtues, and that the frequent sight of blood and battle accustomed Romans to the demands and sacrifices of war.

We have inherited an easy life in Canada. A life of calm. It is freedom of a lazy sort, a freedom so pervasive we barely notice it, and one that we claim by virtue of our citizenship. But it is also worth remembering that people -- in the words of Bulgarian-born Canadian philanthropist Ignat Kaneff -- 'crawl across minefields to get here.

The most sublime act is to set another before you.

The lamb misused breeds public strife And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

And is he honest who resists his genius or conscience only for the sake of present ease or gratification

And throughout all Eternity I forgive you, you forgive me. As our dear Redeemer said: "This the Wine, and this the Bread.

Love seeketh not Itself to please Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.' So sung a little Clod of Clay Trodden with the cattle's feet, But a Pebble of the brook Warbled out these metres meet: 'Love seeketh only Self to please, To bind another to Its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.