Quotes About Burden

When the good Lord put a burden on his heart, he listened.

trust in God could impose an additional burden on good people slammed to their knees by some senseless tragedy. An atheist might be no less staggered by such an event, but nonbelievers often experienced a kind of calm acceptance: shit happens, and this particular shit happened to them. It could be more difficult for a person of faith to get to his feet precisely because he had to reconcile God's love and care with the stupid, brutal fact that something irreversibly terrible had happened.

ignominious grave, and I the cause! A thousand times

There is no one so leadenfooted as the reluctant bringer of bad news.

The promise I had made to the dæmon weighed upon my mind, like Dante's iron cowl on the heads of the hellish hypocrites

I'll bear the burden of your hatred... and we'll die together!

I tried good taste, but the strain was too much for me.

But honestly, isn't that adulthood in a summary? Constant feelings of pure, overwhelming dread?

I know nothing," I say, cheerfully. "You never seem to. Have you ever wondered why that is?" "It's very deliberate. I've found that knowledge is usually a burden. I prefer to be surprised and then eventually horrified.

Guilt isn't always a rational thing, Clio realized. Guilt is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not.

Knowledge is the heaviest weight of all.

Let it snow and snow and bury me. Very funny, Life.

We do not know why we think of them. We do not know why, when we think of them, we feel of a sudden that the earth is good and that it is not a burden to live.

Si viese usted a Atlas, el gigante que sostiene al mundo sobre sus hombros, si usted viese que él estuviese de pie, con la sangre latiendo en su pecho, con sus rodillas doblándose, con sus brazos temblando, pero todavía intentando mantener al mundo en lo alto con sus últimas fuerzas, y cuanto mayor sea su esfuerzo, mayor es el peso que el mundo carga sobre sus hombros, ¿qué le diría usted que hiciese? [...] Que se rebele.

if you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down on his shoulders—what would you tell him to do?" "I . . . don't know. What . . . could he do? What would you tell him?" "To shrug.

Because they're a bunch of miserable children who struggle to remain alive, desperately and very badly, while I—I don't even notice the burden.

To be black was to be the beneficiary of a great inheritance, a special destiny, glorious burdens that only we were strong enough to bear.

How appealing to common interests discounted the continuing effects of discrimination and allowed whites to avoid taking the full measure of the legacy of slavery, Jim Crow, and their own racial attitudes. How this left Black people with a psychic burden, expected as they were to constantly swallow legitimate anger and frustration in the name of some far-off ideal.

I was occupied so entirely by each day, I felt detached from anything so large as a month or a year. History didn't cross my mind. Now it does. Now I know, whatever your burdens, to hold yourself apart from the lot of more powerful men is an illusion. On that awful day in January 1961, Lumumba paid with a life and so did I. On the wings of an owl the fallen Congo came to haunt even our little family, we messengers of goodwill adrift on a sea of mistaken intentions.

What there is in this world I think is a tendency for human errors to level themselves like water throughout there sphere of influence. That's pretty much the whole of what I can say looking back. There is the possibility of balance.Unbearable burden that the world somehow bare with a certain grace.

The need to shelter her family never lifted its weight from her shoulders, but in practical terms she was useful to no one there but the dog and the baby.

Damned thing, self-consciousness, like a pitiful stray dog tagging you down the road—so hard to shake off. So easy to get back.

God doesn't give us a burden that is too heavy to bear.

They must have more money if they were to survive, if her mother was to regain her strength and her health. Emma knew that without money you were nothing, just a powerless and oppressed victim of the ruling class, a yoked and shackled beast of burden destined to a life of mindless drudgery, and an existence so wretched and so without hope, so filled with terror and despair that it was hardly worth the contemplation let alone the living.