Quotes About Burden

Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us. —Samuel Smiles

is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us. —Samuel Smiles

You think we're asking too much of her?" Fin asked. "I can't know, and that's the worry." One that ate at her, night and day. "If I try to see, and he catches even a glimmer, all could be lost. So I don't look. I don't like putting the beginnings of it all in her hands, even knowing it's the right choice.

A leader will be honored, but a leader carries the burden for us all.

William Dembski points out, "If a creature looks like a dog, smells like a dog, barks like a dog, feels like a dog, and pants like a dog, the burden of evidence lies with the person insisting the creature isn't a dog.

The magic of sex is it's acquisition without the burden of possession. No matter how many women you take home, there's never a storage problem.

There's a terrible dark joy when the only person who knows all your secrets is finally dead.

You realize it's not wooden stakes that kill vampires. It's all the emotional baggage and letdowns they have to carry around for century after century.

because the rubber, too, is bulletproof. And so relentless is the wind that it rakes the street, pushing along this burden of crippled vermin, trundling this tide of suffering always in the wake of the Town Car as it reaches Spaulding Square. Fissures of lightning

Well, I guess if Jesus could die for my sins, I suppose I can soak up a few for other people. We all get our chance to play scapegoat. Take the blame. The martyrdom of Saint Me. The sins of every man in history landing square on my back.

The magic of sex is it's acquisition without the burden of possessions. No matter how many women you take home, there's never a storage problem.

It's a fucking Fiero, dude. It's twenty years old. It has 150,000 miles on it, which is practically what it takes to get to the moon. I'm going to bet if I open this thing up, it's going to smell like stale Drakkar Noir and chemical pine scent. There is probably a dead rat in the trunk. Maybe a whole nest of dead rats and rat babies. She finishes her drawing. (Spoiler alert: it's a penis.) You should really be paying me to take this burden of Detroit steel off your hands.

He watches a vid of Brin reading from the Journal of the Whills: "The truth in our soul, Is that nothing is true. The question of life Is what then do we do? The burden is ours To penance, we hew. The Force binds us all From a certain point of view." Addar fails to understand what it means, but he admits: He enjoys listening to Brin.

You ever think with the way the world is, it's irresponsible to bring a kid into it? It's like, this fucking president and climate change and god, what else? Antibiotics are failing and they say all the bugs are dying and the coral reefs, too. Countries are building up their nuclear arsenals instead of paring them down. I just…shit, a new kid might be a burden on this world, and this world will sure as hell end up a burden on our kid.

He just—he takes it all on the chin sometimes. Emotionally, I mean. I think his therapist calls it 'empathic,' I dunno. It's hard on him, even looking at the news—whatever bad news is going on that day. It's a burden. Wears him down.

It is not 'strength' to try to take everything upon oneself.

Nobody can know ... just how heavy a burden trying to protect another human being can be. I was still a child. I couldn't have understood the real meaning of my promise.

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.

He had started out the way nearly all writers do, and I'd seen it a hundred times--amateurs transformed into gibbering wrecks by actually being published; what once they'd done for fun ruined forever by the burden of expectation, the hope of sales and good reviews and riches, hobbyists turned authors made bitter by the knowledge that they'd missed their main chance.

Grigor, of course, was in bed, having heaped enough blame on himself for his son's death that he could barley rise under the weight

Poor Grigor. His heart simply became too heavy, there in the cavity of his chest.

There was an order of misery, misery tucked inside miseries, and you were meant to keep track.

And what else but a being cursed with the burden of free will would wear a poncho.

There was an order of misery, misery tucked inside miseries, and you were meant to keep track. The