Quotes About Sacrifice

cast their babes to the crocodiles in the Ganges.

Sometimes, when you wished too hard for something, you paid a bitter price.

I am like you, Bloodheart," he said, his voice hoarse; but his voice always was hoarse now, for he had survived worse injuries than these. The iron collar, and his chains, weighed heavily on his neck. "My heart rests not within me but with another, and she is far away from here. That is why you will never defeat me.

and what do you think true love is? her father had asked her. 'Loving even when all hope is gone,' she had answered.

Im Kampf um den Handtaschenriemen gegen die Türklinke opfere lieber die Handtasche, als der Türklinke das Gefühl zu geben, sie hätte gewonnen.

There was no nobility in war. Only suffering.

long ago and with open eyes she had made her own bargain with fate, attesting then that if love killed her as it might, she would have no grievance. She had had to go this way to know his love, and she was well satisfied to have it so.

But, deep in her heart she knew more than what the words read or heard seemed to say. She knew that every letter in every word in every war bulletin was, somewhere, first written in blood of men, of human beings, who had once smiled and sung songs, eaten, drunk, slept and loved.

I had a cousin, Randall, killed on Iwo Jima. Have I told you? Have I told you his was a beautiful smile? Not the smile of a cynic, nor the easy, hungry smile of boys his age, whose smiles that aim to get them somewhere, are a commodity in exchange for God knows what. No. His was completely without intent; an accident of a smile. The kind of smile that would have surprised him if he could have seen it for himself. But he was too young to know his own extraordinariness.

Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything

If you want to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, go ahead, get married.

Lesson learned. To succeed as an architect in this world is to sacrifice vision to reality. The field of architecture pretends to be art, and sometimes a house design that is real and true gets recognition, but in reality, success is more often a business. A little seed of brilliance that had germinated and begun to sprout deep inside Duncan withered and died that afternoon.

willing to abrogate his own creative ambitions.

Take down Arty and Chick and Papa and the twins, and all that's left of the Jar Kin, and, by then, Lily and me. Open our metal jars and pour all the Binewski dust together into that big battered loving cup that first held only Grandpa B. Bolt us to the hood of your traveling machine and take us on the road again.

Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get — only what you are expecting to give — which is everything. What you will receive in return varies. But it really has no connection with what you give. You give because you love and cannot help giving.

I ain't got no blood claim on you, and the Lord in Heaven knows I want you to have a good life with your own people. But"—her huge bass voice broke up into little squeaky pieces—"but it's killing me to see you go.

she had stood at the gate of her compound and told the Japanese soldiers there that if they tried to come in and get her girls, they would have to do it across her dead body. This

My dad has to go to Washington to work, or we wouldn't have enough money . . .

Sometimes you have to favor your heel, even if it means you're hurting your toe.

This story is about John, who was a private in the 2nd Georgia Battalion Infantry. I had always been told that John had taken part in Pickett's Charge, the bloody assault on Cemetery Ridge on July 3, 1863. Actually he was mortally wounded very close to Cemetery Hill on July 2 the day before that tragic charge.

What price did William pay for your life, for your loyalty sworn by oath? Could I purchase it from him? -Aislinn

The very nature of marriage means saying yes before you know what it will cost. Though you may say the "I do" of the wedding ritual in all sincerity, it is the testing of that vow over time that makes you married.

Only Christ could have brought us all together, in this place, doing such absurd but necessary things.

The name of the exhibit that my body is in, here with good ol' Sergeant Stubby, is The Price of Freedom. When they point from the other side of the glass, Freedom isn't free, I hear the patriots say. Blah, blah, blah. They're right, but not for the reasons they think they are. The Great War cost me a lot, and although it's not a competition, on this, the eve of my centenary, I can honestly conclude that it cost Whit more.