Quotes About Sacrifice

Suponho que não vão enviar um louco para a morte? – Então, quem iria?

and a great, choking moan tore from Yossarian's throat as McWatt turned again, dipped his wings once in salute, decided oh, well, what the hell, and flew into a mountain. Colonel

Would you like to see our country lose?' Major Major asked. 'We won't lose. We've got more men, more money and more material. There are ten million men in uniform who could replace me. Some people are getting killed and a lot more are making money and having fun. Let somebody else get killed.' 'But suppose everybody on our side felt that way.' 'Then I'd certainly be a damned fool to feel any other way. Wouldn't I?

Yossarian devia a sua boa saúde ao exercício, ao ar puro, ao trabalho de equipa e ao bom desportivismo, e fora para se esquivar a tudo isso que descobrira o hospital.

And anything worth dying for," answered the sacrilegious old man, "is certainly worth living for.

For war there is always enough. It's peace that's too expensive.

And if someone resists the Holy Spirit's conviction of sin and refuses to accept Jesus' sacrifice as God's righteousness, how can he or she be forgiven? Without agreeing with the Holy Spirit regarding sin and Jesus' offering for sin, forgiveness can never be granted. Therefore it is the unforgivable sin.

A child, thought Carl, is not the only result of childbirth. A mother, too, is born. You see them every day--nondescript women with a bulge just above the groin, slightly double-chinned. Perpetually forty. Someone's mother, you think. There is a child somewhere who has made this woman into a mother, and for the sake of the child she has altered her appearance to better play the part.

You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love 'til it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Love isn't brains, children, it's blood -- blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it.

Malcolm: So me and mine gotta lay down and die... So you can live in your better world? Operative: I'm not going to live there. There's no place for me there... any more than there is for you. I'm a monster. What I do is evil. I have no illusions about it. But it must be done.

War is not just the business of death, it is the antitheses of life.

Oh, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash. You have gutted me but I gave you the knife. You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.

You took me once to an older part of earth I'd never seen— where monsters were born and killed. They sacrificed everything and nothing for a taste of this life.

Some of us did not make it. We carried their bodies far away From the cities and set their spirits free. This moment is for them—gives them nourishment Of our love to keep moving toward home.

Yet I will make you all love me and I will punish myself to spite your love.

In all marriages there is the imbalance: one who loves more than the other. One who licks wounds in secret, the rust-taste of blood.

Maybe he'd been mistaken, trying so hard to make his wife and young children happy. Maybe it's always a mistake, trying to assure the happiness of others.

Boxing has become America's tragic theater.

What've I got to do, to prove how much I love you? Blow us all away?

She wasn't in love but she would love him, if that would save her. She'd never loved any man, she was a good girl but she would love that man if it would save her.

loving him more than her life, her life she'd have tossed into the air confident he'd catch it, yes and

a mother's crying, stifled, soundless, secret so as not to disturb. If you cried so others could hear you were crying to be heard but a mother's crying was just the opposite, crying not to be heard.

For it had always seemed evident to him, Jesus adored his faithless Judas above the other disciples.

The Professor looked like a Protestant saint when the cannibal offered him the choice of taking six wives or being boiled alive. He wanted to mortify some flesh, but he didn't know which.