Quotes About Sacrifice

Decidí que Orion debía morir cuando me salvó la vida por segunda vez.

She was thinner than she had been. The thing ate only sparingly. Enough to keep Kasia alive, not enough to keep me from watching her wear away, her body growing gaunt and her face hollow-cheeked.

We're all greedy, btu children make it easier to be. We feel it's only right to give them everything we can grab, even when you know that anything you feed your own child still comes out of someone else's mouth.

I should rather have you than a heap of gold, even if it were very comfortable to sleep on," Temeraire said. "I do not mind the deck.

I'm not a fool, to take gifts from monsters. Where do you think its power comes from? Nothing like that comes without a price.

I'd been ready to go down to the graduation hall and fight for my life; I'd been ready to fight for the lives of everyone I knew, for the chance of a future. I didn't need this much more to lose.

A crowd of women around me doing the ocean of women's work that never subsided and never changed and always swallowed whatever time you gave it and wanted more, another hungry body of water.

He made her give him gold just to live, as if she belonged to him because he was strong enough to kill her. My father was strong enough to kill me but that did not mean I belonged to him. He sold me for six kopeks, for three pigs, for a jug of krupnik.

could only buy it by giving in sooner, giving in all the time; like Scheherazade, humbly asking my murderous husband to go on sparing me night after night. And

He's mourning his son, number 3000 American dead in Iraq, but as far as he can feel, the worst one.

all that the high cost of holy oil delivers is the assuaging of guilt, of the compulsion to sacrifice. In this way, the great medieval industry of pardons and indulgences reappears as the holy oil industry of today. The value of indulgences is their expense to the penitent. Their primary psychological meaning lies in how much the penitent is willing to sacrifice for the sake of forgiveness.

SERVICE, Sacrifice and Self-Control are three words which must be well understood by the person who succeeds in doing something that is of help to the world.

Tidak ada hal lain yang akan didapati oleh seorang yang sudah mengorbankan segalanya hari ini untuk satu impiannya di masa nanti, kecuali dia akan bertemu dengan impiannya itu

Life has no bargains. Everything that you get that's worthy of having has a price upon it.

What! Giving again?" I ask in dismay. "And must I keep giving and giving away?" "Oh no," said the angel looking me through, "Just keep giving till the Master stops giving to you!

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work-- I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor: What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.

I'd live in the fields on hard corn for a just cause. Yes, for a just cause I'd live in the fields On hard corn.

And yet that mother is right. She has sacrificed herself for her family. The others have allowed themselves plenty of freedom. She has had no share of it. She has worked, slaved, given up every moment of her day. But there's something more serious, something which is the real cause of suffering. She hasn't been understood. They have taken her for granted; they haven't, for example, noticed her crying in silence.

Only very late do we learn the price of the risk of believing, because only very late do we face up to the idea of death. This is what is difficult. Believing truly means dying. Dying to everything: to our reasoning, to our plans, to our past, to our childhood dreams, to our attachment to earth, and sometimes even to the sunlight, as at the moment of our physical death.

We all give up great expectations along the way.

I knew then that I would devote every minute we had left together to making her happy, to repairing the pain I had caused her and returning to her what I never known how to give her. These pages will be our memory until she drows her last breath in my arms and I take her forever and escape at last to a place where neither heaven nor hell will ever be able to find us.

Normal people bring children into the world; we novelists bring books. We are condemned to put our whole lives into them, even though they hardly ever thank us for it. We are condemned to die in their pages and sometimes even to let our books be the ones who, in the end, will take our lives.

Sometimes what matters isn't what one gives but what one gives up.

La gente normal trae hijos al mundo; los novelistas traemos libros. Estamos condenados a dejarnos la vida en ellos aunque casi nunca lo agradezcan. Estamos condenados a morir en sus páginas y a veces hasta dispuestos a dejar que sean ellos quienes acaben por quitarnos la vida.