Quotes About Sacrifice

And the question now for me is, What are my choices to be? What do I believe that I deserve in this life? Where can I accept sacrifice, and where can I not?

And why must Prudence go so far out of her way to make everyone around her look so paltry-hearted and piggish, in comparison to her own mighty sacrifices?

I had chosen a devotional path and I was being true to it. If someday I got lucky enough to be paid for my work, that would be great, but in the meantime, money could always come from other places.

It reminds me of this wonderful adage from the British columnist Katharine Whitehorn: "You can recognize the people who live for others by the haunted look on the faces of the others.

What are you passionate enough about that you can endure the most disagreeable aspects of the work?

What are you willing to give up to live the life you are pretending you want?

You can recognize the people who live for others by the haunted look on the faces of the others.") I would so much rather that you wrote a book in order to entertain yourself than to help me. Or if your subject matter is darker and more serious, I would prefer that you made your art in order to save yourself, or to relieve yourself of some great psychic burden, rather than to save or relieve us.

Quit your complaining. It's not the world's fault that you wanted to be an artist. It's not the world's job to enjoy the films you make, and it's certainly not the world's obligation to pay for your dreams. Nobody wants to hear it. Steal a camera if you must, but stop whining and get back to work.

quién de nosotros vive sin hacer ciertos sacrificios?

Everything you do, you do for God. And everything God does he do it for you.

But I disappear into the person I love. I am the permeable membrane. If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog's money, my dog's time—everything.

Everything sucks, some of the time." You just have to decide what sort of suckage you're willing to deal with. So the question is not so much "What are you passionate about?" The question is "What are you passionate enough about that you can endure the most disagreeable aspects of the work?

You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return for what you've given up. Every

every single pursuit—no matter how wonderful and exciting and glamorous it may initially seem—comes with its own brand of shit sandwich, its own lousy side effects.

People don't do this kind of thing because they have all kinds of extra time and energy for it; they do this kind of thing because their creativity matters to them enough that they are willing to make all kinds of extra sacrifices for it.

So the question is not so much "What are you passionate about?" The question is "What are you passionate enough about that you can endure the most disagreeable aspects of the work?

I'm not letting you go after this. He raised his head. Marry me, Phoebe, please. Damn the courtship. Damn your brother. Damn the waiting . I can't...I can't breathe when you're not with me. I love you with all my cynical heart. Be my wife and teach me to laugh and let me buy you beer and ride with me on the beaches of Cornwall. Be my love and my wife forevermore. (Captain James Trevellion)

For the first time in a very long time, he yearned to see tomorrow. Tomorrow and the day after that and the year after that. There was a possibility that with Megs he might have a life to look forward to. And because of that, tonight he was going to hunt down a man and assassinate him in cold blood. This act would damn his very soul but for Megs it was worth it. For Meggie he would walk the fires of hell.

Nothing I have will tempt you?" King Herla murmured. Lin could only shake her head. "Then perhaps I should offer myself," Herla said as he sank to his knees before her. "Wonderful girl, will you have me as your husband?" "Oh, yes," Lin said.

She was already in his palace, in his life. He couldn't go back--and wouldn't even if he could. She was so close to him now that it was as if he held her in his palm like a glowing ember--and gave thanks for the pain even as he inhaled the smoke from his burning flesh.

I'll not miss a whit of it. Gold nor silks nor fancy books and statues. I can live without them all. What I cannot live without is one Silence Rivers. I love you, my wife. And I love you, my husband. I look forward to being just plain Mrs. Rivers, I do. She leaned back and whispered in his ear, But perhaps you can still be Charming Mickey O'Connor the notorious pirate--in our bedroom. He winked at her as he bent to catch her lips. Oh, to be sure, m'love, to be sure.

I love you, Godric St. John, and now I'm breaking my word. I will not leave you. You may either come with me to Laurelwood or I'll stay here with you in your musty old house in London and drive you mad with all my talking and relatives and... and exotic sexual positions until you break down and love me back, for I'm warning you that I'm not giving up until you love me and we're a happy family with dozens of children.

What of the Parliament? Or the succession of the marquessate? Don't you see? He shook his head, searching for the words, he who was known for his eloquence on the floor of the House of Lords. None of that matters. Without you, I am a shadow of a man, a wisp. Parliament, even the marquessate, can survive without me, but I cannot survive without you .

I'll use any means necessary -- any f*cking violence I want --in order to keep you safe. Do you understand me, Eve? This isn't bloody negotiable. I will f*cking kill if it means it'll keep you safe.