She had been wrong in thinking Christ had been called up against his will to fight in a war. He didn't look - in spite of the crown of thorns - like someone making a sacrifice. Or even like someone determined to "do his bit". He looked instead like Marjorie had looked telling Polly she'd joined the Nursing Service, like Mr Humphreys had looked filling buckets with water and sand to save Saint Paul's, like Miss Laburnum had looked that day she came to Townsend Brothers with the coats. He looked like Captain Faulknor must have looked, lashing the ships together. Like Ernest Shackleton, setting out in that tiny boat across icy seas. Like Colin helping Mr Dunworthy across the wreckage.
He looked ... contented. As if he was where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do.
Like Eileen had looked, telling Polly she'd decided to stay. Like Mike must have looked in Kent, composing engagement announcements and letters to the editor. Like I must have looked there in the rubble with Sir Godfrey, my hand pressed against his heart. Exalted. Happy.
To do something for someone or something you loved - England or Shakespeare or a dog or the Hodbins or history - wasn't a sacrifice at all. Even if it cost you your freedom, your life, your youth.
Because love was not the answer to every question. Because real love meant sacrifice. Sometimes love means letting go.
Melissa de la CruzMots clés truth love sacrifice life-lesson
It’s not easy to be God.
Péter ZilahyMots clés sacrifice coming-of-age central-europe dark-humour
Free yourself from one passion to be dominated by another and nobler one. But is not that, too, a form of slavery? To sacrifice oneself to an idea, to a race, to God? Or does it mean that the higher the model the longer the tether of our slavery? Then we can enjoy ourselves and frolic in a more spacious arena and die without having come to the end of the tether. Is that, then, what we call liberty?
Nikos KazantzakisMots clés liberty passion freedom sacrifice
Stained-glass windows glowed faintly in the moonlight streaming through, illuminating the sculpture of Christ on the cross that hung above the altar.
It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Then the sculpture seemed to move, and Christ’s body twisted on the cross to look directly at him. ...Jesus, the son of God and his saviour, seemed be smiling at him.
Mots clés love joy hope sacrifice chapter-6 redemption sam
Kufanikiwa katika maisha ni kuwa tayari muda wowote kujitoa mhanga kwa ajili ya kitu unachoweza kuwa.
Enock MaregesiShe had seen what it cost him and her heart quickened with compassion. For that alone, she might have loved him almost.
Cecilia Dart-ThorntonMots clés kindness love compassion sacrifice
Blood was the mortar that cemented the kingdom
Jocelyn MurrayMots clés death sacrifice blood empires
You think me noble?” She rolled to her side facing him. “Am I saint-like? Do I slay dragons and hang the moon as well?
Jessica FortunatoMots clés friendship moon sacrifice saint noble
Sacrifice is at the heart of repentance. Without deeds, your apology is worthless.
Bryan DavisMots clés sacrifice repentance apology
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