Quotes About Sacrifice

There is little place in the political scheme of things for an independent, creative personality, for a fighter. Anyone who takes that role must pay a price.

"It isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

I never would have given up my work to stay home.

Most people want to win in life but very few are willing to pay the price to prepare to win.

Once when the great violinist Fritz Kreisler finished a concert, someone came up to the stage and said, "I'd give my life to play the way you do." Kreisler replied, "I did!

There is greatness in doing something you hate for the sake of someone you love.

In Hinayana Buddhism, practice is classified in four ways. The best way is just to do it without having any joy in it, not even spiritual joy. This way is just to do it, forgetting your physical and mental feeling, forgetting all about yourself in your practice.

Because your attainment is always ahead, you will always be sacrificing yourself now for some ideal in the future.

Trample! Trample! It is to be trampled on by you that I am here.

One-half of knowing what you want is knowing what you must give up before you get it.

Into the woods my Master went,Clean forspent, forspent.Into the woods my Master came,Forspent with love and shame.

Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land.

Who will remember, passing through this gate,The unheroic dead who fed the guns?Who shall absolve the foulness of their fate—Those doomed, conscripted, unvictorious ones?

Suicide in the trenches: I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. * * * * * You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go." "The War Poems

Dark clouds are smouldering into red While down the craters morning burns. The dying soldier shifts his head To watch the glory that returns: He lifts his fingers toward the skies Where holy brightness breaks in flame; Radiance reflected in his eyes, And on his lips a whispered name.

They march from safety, and the bird-sung joy Of grass-green thickets, to the land where all Is ruin, and nothing blossoms but the sky

Soldiers are dreamers.

Against the background of the War and its brutal stupidity those men had stood glorified by the thing which sought to destroy them…. I

I died in hell. They called it Passchendaele.

When Dick was killed last week he looked like that, Flapping along the fire-step like a fish, After the blazing crump had knocked him flat…. "How many dead? As many as ever you wish. Don't count 'em; they're too many. Who'll buy my nice fresh corpses, two a penny?

We were carrying something in our heads which belonged to us alone, and to those we had left behind us in the battle.

Light many lamps and gather round his bed. Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live. Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet. He's young; he hated war; how should he die When cruel old campaigners win safe through? But death replied: "I choose him." So he went, And there was silence in the summer night; Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep. Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.

The creation of the mental domain of phantasm has a complete counterpart in the establishment of "reservations" and "nature-parks."... The "reservation" is to maintain the old condition of things which has been regretfully sacrificed to necessity everywhere else; there everything make grow and spread as it pleases, including what is it useless and even what is harmful. The mental realm of phantasm is also such a reservation reclaimed from the encroachment of the reality-principle.