Quotes About Poverty

Being someone who had had a very difficult childhood, a very difficult adolescence - it had to do with not quite poverty, but close. It had to do with being brought up in a family where no one spoke English, no one could read or write English. It had to do with death and disease and lots of other things. I was a little prone to depression.

Offhand, the only North American writers I can think of who have come from a background of rural poverty and gone on to write about it have been Negroes.

As a poor person and someone who now writes extensively about social and economic justice, I've often noticed a lack of a focus on poverty appearing in news cycles or in debates among White House contenders.

There's nothing more stressful than your stomach growling. But interestingly enough, some of my best writing came when I was poor and hungry - living off water and oatmeal, mind clear.

To the grim poor there need be no pourquoi tale about where evil arises; it just arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her--is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil...?

Another word for poverty of choice is innocence.

Everything in your world has vanished. You have no money, no job, and no hope of finding one. That's how it is for thousands of people here. Please don't forget that feeling.

You see, poor land leads to poor people, conflict, disease. To heal the planet, you have to heal the whole.

Crush the rich, take food from the poor, keep them barefoot, hungry, uninformed, uneducated, and moneyless. That's how a dictator rises to power.

What wretched poverty of language! To compare stars to diamonds!

On the hill there was a poor old tramp wandering about with his stick, in among the carriages. A mass of rags covered his shoulders, and a squashed beaver-hat, bent down into the shape of a bowl, concealed his face; but, when he took it off, he exposed, instead of eyelids, two yawning bloodstained holes. The flesh was tattered into scarlet strips; and fluid was trickling out, congealing into green crusts that reached down to his nose, with black nostrils that kept sniffing convulsively.

Ciom?giÈ›i-l pe s?racul care rîvneÈ™te la p?tura de pe spinarea m?garului, la mîncarea cîinelui, la cuibul p?s?rii, È™i care e foarte mîhnit c? alÈ›ii nu sînt la fel de nenorociÈ›i ca el.(Circoncelionii)

Entre pauvres gens, faut bien qu'on s'aide ... C'est les grands qui font la guerre.

Voyez-vous, monsieur, entre pauvres gens, faut bien qu'on s'aide… C'est les grands qui font la guerre.

Ces gens ne se sont battus que pour vider les silos ou piller des convois. Ils semblent n'avoir agi ni par haine, ni par fanatisme religieux, mais par faim. Notre système de colonisation consistant à ruiner l'Arabe, à le dépouiller sans repos, à le poursuivre sans merci et à le faire crever de misère, nous verrons encore d'autres insurrections.

Mathilde suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born to enjoy all delicacies and all luxuries. She was distressed at the poverty of her dwelling, at the bareness of the walls, at the shabby chairs, the ugliness of the curtains. All those things, of which another woman of her rank would never even have been conscious, tortured her and made her angry.

The spectacle is a permanent opium war designed to force people to equate goods with commodities and to equate satisfaction with a survival that expands according to its own laws. Consumable survival must constantly expand because it never ceases to include privation . If augmented survival never comes to a resolution, if there is no point where it might stop expanding this is because it is itself stuck in the realm of privation. It may gild poverty, but it cannot transcend it.

Qui regardent la pauvrete de leur vie comprend bien la pauvrete de leur discours.

No woman is really humble; she is merely politic. No woman, with a free choice before her, chooses self-immolation; the most she genuinely desires in that direction is a spectacular martyrdom. No woman delights in poverty. No woman yields when she can prevail. No woman is honestly meek.

For humility and poverty, in themselves, the world has little liking and less respect. In the folk-lore of all races, despite the sentimentalization of abasement for dramatic effect, it is always power and grandeur that count in the end.

In youth he had felt the hidden beauty and ecstasy of things, and had been a poet; but poverty and sorrow and exile had turned his gaze in darker directions, and he had thrilled at the imputations of evil in the world around.

Among these odd folk, who correspond exactly to the decadent element of "white trash" in the South, law and morals are non-existent; and their general mental status is probably below that of any other section of the native American people.

Reporter Jacob Riis made it his mission to expose the horrors of poverty in New York. New to working with a camera, his flash actually set the walls of One apartment inhabited by five blind people on fire.

The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little.