Quotes About Sacrifice

The realm of the gods is a forgotten dimension of the world we know. And the exploration of that dimension, either willingly or unwillingly, is the whole sense of the deed of the hero. The values and distinctions that in normal life seem important disappear with the terrifying assimilation of the self into what formerly was only otherness.

The hero, the waker of his own soul, is himself but the convenient means of his own dissolution.

the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.

A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.

MOYERS: A new king or new queen of England is given the coronation ring. CAMPBELL: Yes, because there's another aspect of the ring—it is a bondage. As king, you are bound to a principle. You are living not simply your own way. You have been marked. In initiation rites, when people are sacrificed and tattooed, they are bonded to another and to the society.

Atonement (at-one-ment) consists in no more than the abandonment of that self-generated double monster — the dragon thought to be God (superego)* and the dragon thought to be Sin (repressed id). But this requires an abandonment of the attachment to ego itself; and that is what is difficult.

You're no longer this one alone; your identity is in a relationship. Marriage is not a simple love affair, it's an ordeal, and the ordeal is the sacrifice of ego to a relationship in which two have become one.

Don't worry about me. Go and enjoy yourself. I'll stay here and be miserable.

We cannot ask in behalf of Christ what Christ would not ask Himself if He were praying.

The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.

His folly has not fellowBeneath the blue of dayThat gives to man or womanHis heart and soul away.

Prominent among the Hettite priests were the Galli or eunuchs, who on the days of festival cut their arms and scourged themselves in honour of their deities. Such actions remind us of those priests of Baal who 'cut themselves after their manner with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them.

Heroes are carried on the backs of a thousand forgotten faces.

No man was worth dying over. But she was beginning to think some just might be worth killing over.

To lose the earth you know, for greater knowing: to lose the life you have, for greater life: to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving, to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth— —Whereon the pillars of this earth are founded, toward which the conscience of the world is tending—a wind is rising, and the rivers flow.

How does one become butterfly?' Pooh asked pensively. 'You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar,' Piglet replied. 'You mean to die?' asked Pooh. 'Yes and now,' he answered. 'What looks like you will die, but what's really you will live on.

Life without sacrifice is like a pretty rose without smell and thorns.

Things you get with sacrifice you enjoy it everyday,if you get it for free you throw it away.

Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries These, in the day when heaven was falling, The hour when earth's foundations fled, Followed their mercenary calling And took their wages and are dead. Their shoulders held the sky suspended; They stood, and earth's foundations stay; What God abandoned, these defended, And saved the sum of things for pay.

Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man.

If it chance your eye offends you, Pluck it out lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul.

I sought them far and found them, The sure, the straight, the brave, The hearts I lost my own to, The souls I could not save They braced their belts about them, They crossed in ships the sea, They sought and found six feet of ground, And there they died for me.

The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning; Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air. And he that stands will die for nought, and home there's no returning. The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.

What kind of love demands the life of another? A child at that?" "Danish love, my sweet. Can't you smell it?