sacrifice

To follow Christ requires a downward career track that does not depend on dollars or status. Instead, what matters is Christ.

Listen ... The universe is full of creatures that can get inside your soul. Things that try to take away the very things that make you who you are, who try to reshape you for their own ends, who want to eat you like a piece of fruit and spit out the seeds. It's Turtles all the way down. Are you listening? ... Listen, Chris. The Turtles don't deserve your life. You mustn't let them have you. I know them too well, Chris. They've touched me, infected me, possessed me. I've felt their contamination. I've been on their altars. Listen to me, Chris. They don't have the right ... Not even if they love you ... Not even if they're a god.

mostly we've had to found ways to amuse ourselves.""Really?" Valkyrie asked. "Like what?"Plight's smile faded. "Like human sacrifice."He grabbed one arm and Lenka grabbed the other and Valkyrie cried out.Then they both let go. laughing."Naw," Plight said, we just play board games."..."she fell for it!" gasped Lenka. "She fell for the human sacrifice bit!

...no one has ever doubted you would die for those you love ... the question then becomes would you live?

Don't hate me forever, Arty," whispered Holly. "I couldn't bear that.

Wherever an altar is found, there civilization exists.

He remembered the darkness and despair she'd suffered during her long years as a prisoner, but he also recalled the deep, unquenchable joy she took from the world around her; and he knew that given the choice, Wilamena would suffer all she had and more rather than sacrifice one day of being alive.It was just as his father had said. She chose life, all of it.

The sacrifice of life is, in many cases, the easiest of all sacrifices

Success never goes on sale, but most spend their whole life dickering over the cost, never making the purchase.

Love is about giving, about caring for the other person's welfare. Love is treating someone, in the Kantian sense, never as a means but as an end in themselves. Love is sacrifice, love is something you work at, something you build like a house or tend like a plant, brick by brick, drop by drop, day by day. Nonsense. Old wives' tales, old husbands' tales. That is affection they are talking about, that is companionship, that is charity, that is tickets for the Cancer Research Ball. You must ask the young if you want to know what love is. Only they are deep enough in it to describe. We older ones have clues and simulacra, we base our judgement, like pathologists do, on the dents and scars and sediments of hearts long kept in formaldehyde. It is the pulsing heart you want to probe: the pulsing, beating, leaping, dipping, fluttering heart of a seventeen-year-old.

Blood was the mortar that cemented the kingdom

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

Achan gritted his teeth and recalled Sir Eagan's words. Love was not taking because you wanted, he'd said. Love was sacrifice.

...We understood nothing at all. Not what it meant to wish for a miracle... nor its price.

France bleeds, but liberty smiles, and before the smile of liberty, France forgets her wound.

I am just going outside and may be some time." Reportedly the last words of Lawrence Oates according to Captain Robert Falcon Scott, who commanded the ill-fated expedition to the South Pole 1911/12.

He who lives for nothing costs the lives of many, but he who lives for something greater than himself preserves those he loves.

Because love was not the answer to every question. Because real love meant sacrifice. Sometimes love means letting go.