Quotes About Sacrifice

Lest Love should value less What loss would value more, Had it the stricken privilege --- It cherishes before.

You must let me go first, Sue, because I live in the Sea always and know the Road. I would have drowned twice to save you sinking, dear, If I could only have covered your Eyes so you wouldn't have seen the Water.

The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost -- The Summit is not given to Him who strives severe At middle of the Hill -- But He who has achieved the Top -- All -- is the price of All

Renunciation--is a piercing Virtue-- The letting go A Presence--for an Expectation

Forbidden fruit a flavor has That lawful orchards mocks ; How luscious lies the pea within The pod that Duty locks !

I took one Draught of Life— I'll tell you what I paid— Precisely an existence— The market price, they said.

To fight aloud, is very brave- But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe- Who win, and nations do not see- Who fall- and none observe- Whose dying eyes, no Country Regards with patriot love- We trust, in plumed procession For such, the Angels go- Rank after rank, with even feet- And Uniforms of snow.

To own a Susan of my own Is of itself a Bliss — Whatever realm I forfeit, Lord, Continue me in this!

Love is immortality Che sempre amai questo ti sia di prova: che per quanto abbia amato Non ho vissuto abbastanza. Che amerò sempre te lo assicuro, l'amore è vita - e la vita è immortale. Dubiti ancora, Amore? Ecco, allora non ho altro da mostrare che il mio Calvario.

Sometimes there are no happy endings, No matter what, I'll be losing something, someone. But maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice, again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all.

Love as a verb. Love as a commitment.

It was the same night I gave myself to him completely, knowing that I would belong to him for as long as he wanted to keep me. And, as it turned out, even longer than that.

Maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice, again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all

But maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice, again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all.

Sometimes there are no happy endings. No matter what, I'll be losing something, someone. But maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice, again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all.

Being married cuts on your freedom. Having a husband or a relationship at all puts constraints on you. by Michael.

He aprendido que eres tú quien forja tu propia felicidad, que una parte de ir a por lo que quieres significa perder otras cosas. Y cuando las apuestas son altas, las pérdidas también pueden ser igualmente altas.

But for me, Room is a peculiar (and no doubt heretical) battle between Mary and the Devil for young Jesus. If God sounds absent from that triangle, that's because I think that for a small child, God's love is represented, and proved, by mother-love.

The worn soles of Daffy's boots skidded on the icy stones. He'd been saving up for a new pair for Christmas, but then he'd come across an encyclopaedia in ten volumes, going cheap. Boots might last ten years, at best, but knowledge was eternal.

Daughter, he said in a voice like old wood breaking, can you ever forgive me? I could only answer his question with one of my own. Putting my hand over his mouth, I whispered, Which of us would not sell all we had to stay alive?

That's what you got for being a servant of no ambition: a shrunken life, hung up like a gibbet as a warning to others.

So much of motherhood is acting.

The girl remembered London as a place of infinite freedom. Now it seemed she'd rented out her whole life to the Joneses in advance. Service had reduced her to a child, put her under orders to get up and lie down at someone else's whim; her days were spent obeying someone else's rules, working for someone else's profit. Nothing was Mary's anymore. Not even her time was hers to waste.

How could anyone bear to be a parent? Like contracting to love a werewolf.