Quotes About Ambition

And I said I wanted to live in the country and in the city both?

What I always thought I had in mind was getting some big scholarship to graduate school or a grant to study all over Europe, and then I thought I'd be a professor and write books of poems or write books of poems and be an editor of some sort. Usually I had these plans on the tip of my tongue. 'I don't really know,' I heard myself say. I felt a deep shock, hearing myself say that, because the minute I said it, I knew it was true.

The poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.

I didn't think I deserved it. After all, I wasn't crippled in any way, I just studied too hard, I didn't know when to stop.

Non potrò mai essere tutte le persone che vorrei essere, né vivere tutte le vite che vorrei vivere. Non sarò mai all'altezza di tutte le qualità che vorrei avere. Perché desidero tutto questo? Io voglio vivere e sentire tutte le sfumature, i toni e le variazioni di tutte le esperienze fisiche e mentali possibili in questa vita

The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoot off from. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in al directions myself.

The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots off from. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in al directions myself.

The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots off from. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself.

What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don't know and I'm afraid. I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life.

You wonder if you've got what it takes to keep building up obstacle courses for your self, and to keep leaping through them, sprained ankle or not.

From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, ... I wanted each and everyone of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was coming to the end. I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone. I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.

Tonight was awful. It was the combination of everything. Of the play Goodbye My Fancy, of wanting, in a juvenile way, to be, like the heroine, a reporter in the trenches, to be loved by a man who admired me, who understood me as much as I understood myself.

After nineteen years of running after good marks and prizes and grants of one son and another, I was letting up, slowing down, dropping clean out of the race.

I'm so jealous I can't speak. Nineteen years, and I hadn't been out of New England except for this trip to New York. It was my first big chance, but here I was, sitting back and letting it run through my fingers like so much water.

Every world crowns its own kings, laurels it own gods. A Hans Anderson book cover opens its worlds: the snowqueen, bluewhite as ice, flies in a sleigh through her snow-thick air: our hearts are ice. Always: sludge, offal, shit against palaces of diamond. That man could dream god and heaven: how mud labors. We burn in our own fire.

Quería estar donde nadie más que yo supiera que podría llegar.

Olmak istediÄŸim her ÅŸeyi olmam, yaÅŸamak istediÄŸim bütün hayatlar? yaÅŸamam mümkün deÄŸil. Ä°stediÄŸim bütün yetenekleri geliÅŸtirmem mümkün deÄŸil. Ä°stememin nedeni ne peki? Hayat?mda, olas? bütün zihinsel ve fiziksel deneyimlerin her bir rengini, tonunu ve her çesidini yaÅŸamak istiyorum.

I am writing with a blunt pencil tied on a mile-long stick, at something far off over the horizon line. Will I break through someday? At least if I get 300 pages written by the end of May, I'll have the creaking, gushing skeleton plot of the whole thing.

Only it would help my morale no end to feel it was a good novel.

Writing on the side (she says ambitiously.) But to write you have to live, don't you?

I love my rejections. They prove that I'm trying'. I'm convinced this quote from Sylvia Plath is one of the best incentives to keep a struggling writer from giving up.

digestible enough to be written out in short stories and poems, when I had a certain slickness that is enviable now

It Will Come. If I Work.