Quotes About Sacrifice

We did not say she was crazy then. We believed she had to do that. We remembered all the young men her father had driven away, and we knew that with nothing left, she would have to cling to that which had robbed her, as people will.

But he was not a coward...not so much to the idea of pouring out human blood and life, but at the idea of waste of wearing out and eating up and shooting away material in any cause whatever.

I believe that man will not merely endure. He will prevail. He is immortal not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.

curiosity is another of the mistresses whose slaves decline no sacrifice.

Meet Mrs. Bundren, he says.

Every writer must learn to kill his little darlings.

old General Compson had gone to his fathers at last—or to whatever bivouac old soldiers of that war, blue or gray either, probably insisted on going to since probably no place would suit them for anything resembling a permanent stay —

O dia corria célere sobre suas cabeças, e as janelas esquálidas brilhavam e escurecia numa retrocessão espectral. Passou um carro, pela pista de areia lá fora, rosnando de esforço, e o som foi morrendo. Dilsey estava empertigada em seu banco, a mão pousada no joelho de Ben. Duas lágrimas desciam-lhe as faces murchas, entrando e saindo dasmil coruscações da imolação e da abnegação do tempo.

Folks don't go to wars for fun. A man don't leave his maw crying just for fun.

This isn't from me, but from Faulkner, and may be the best advice I've seen for any writer. (Write of) the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed – love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice.

Chicks had to realize, he said, that when they married a surfer, they married surfing. They had to either adapt or split.

In this world, God must serve the Devil.

But not in this world: things wore out, and you lost them in a thousand ways, preposterous and unconnected with any notion of devotion, martyrdom, sacrifice

For thousands of years men dreamed of pacts with demons. Only now are such things possible. And what would you be paid with? What would your price be, for aiding this thing to free itself and grow?

Annie: Maybe you all do. It's my idea of the original sin. James: What is? Annie: Giving up.

No human endeavour can ever be wholly good... it must always have a cost.

The Prince found Buttercup waiting unhappily outside his chamber doors. It's my letter,' she began. 'I cannot make it right.' Come in, come in,' the Prince said gently. 'Maybe we can help you.' She sat down in the same chair as before. 'All right, I'll close my eyes and listen; read to me.' Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup.' She looked at Humperdinck. 'Well? Do you think I'm throwing myself at him?

While he was watching the ships, Buttercup shoved him with all her strength remaining. Down went the man in black. You can die too for all I care, she said, and then she turned away. Words followed her. Whispered from afar, weak and warm and familiar. As...you...wish...

The dweam of wuv wapped wiffin the gweater dweam of everwasting west. Eternity is our fwiend, wemember that, and wuv wiw fowwow you fowever.

The truth,' said Westley, 'is that you would rather live with your prince than die with your love.' 'I would rather live than die, I admit it.' 'We are talking of love, madam.' There was a long pause. Then Buttercup said it: 'I can live without love.' And with that she left Westley alone.

La verità» disse Westley «è che tu preferisci vivere con il Principe anziché morire con il tuo amore». «Preferisco vivere che morire, lo ammetto». «Parlavamo d'amore, signora».

She fell fast and she fell hard, but what did that matter, since she would have gladly dropped a thousand feet onto a bed of nails if Westley had been waiting at the bottom. Down

Can you guess what I'm doing? Cutting my heart out. You took mine when I was ten; I want yours now. We are lovers of justice, you and I—what could be more just than that?

Child; sweet child. I have a knife. I have my sword. I did not come across the world to lose you now. (Westley)