Quotes About Struggle

I worked as a cryptologist, where I decoded puzzles, even thought I can't make the jagged pieces of my own life fit.

Taking out a criminal was easier than phoning home.

Winning may not be everything, but losing has little to recommend it.

What doesn't kill you will come back to finish the job.

I failed to fulfill what should have been an interesting role. I couldn't take their formula and bring what I had, my humor, my ideas, and make it my own.

The Catholic struggle to hold the line against Protestantism brought thirty years of misery to millions of Europeans: opinions vary, but within the German lands one modern estimate is that 40 per cent of the population met an early death through the fighting or the accompanying famine and disease, and even the most cautious reassessment of the evidence comes up with a figure of 15-20 per cent.

THE PENDULUM OF POLITICS is always swinging. Republicans gain seats, Democrats win them back, and the struggle continues. The one thing that seems inevitable no matter the party in office is the continued growth of government. Occasionally, however, a fresh jolt of conservative energy interrupts that growth.

Perhaps the saddest irony of depression is that suicide happens when the patient gets a little better and can again function sufficiently.

The relevance for 9/11 is that what 9/11 marked was the beginning of a struggle in which the terrorists come at us and strike us here on our home territory. And it's a global operation. It doesn't know national boundaries or national borders.

The Orphan Master's Son

Life has a way of kicking one along like a football, or so I've found. Fate had never dealt me personally a particularly easy time, but that was OK, that was normal. Most people, it seemed to me, took their turn to be football. Most survived. Some didn't.

Yet all we had was here and now, and here and now was always where the struggle toward goodness had to be fought. Toward virtue, morality, uprightness, order: call it what one liked. A long ever-recurring battle.

She said several times that Malcolm was a fiend who was determined to destroy his children, and that I was the devil incarnate helping him. She hoped we would both rot in hell. (I thought devils and fiends might flourish there, actually.)

Baseball is very big with my people. It figures. It's the only way we can get to shake a bat at a white man without starting a riot.

In America, with all its evils and faults, you can still reach through the forest and see the sun. But we do not know yet whether the sun is rising or setting for our country.

For years they told us where to sit, where to eat, and where to live. Now they want to dictate our bedroom habits. First the white man tells me to sit in the back of the bus. Now it looks like he wants me to sleep under the bed. Back in the days of slavery, black folks couldn't grow kids fast enough for white folks to harvest. Now that we've got a little taste of power, white folks want us to call a moratorium on having children.

War is the only game in which it doesn't pay to have the home-court advantage.

I wanted to be a sportswriter because I loved sports and I could not hit the curve ball, the jump shot, or the opposing ball carrier.

The purpose of life is to fight maturity.

I certainly didn't feel like writing anymore. I couldn't explain why, but the only emotion that I could arouse were feelings of anger and after staying mad all day and half the night, I was just plain tired. Mad at what? Just about everything, for just about everything was done wrong or it wasn't done perfectly. Since nothing but perfection was acceptable, I stayed mad.

And he said, This schoolroom is an immense town, and in it there are a million inhabitants, and only five-and-twenty are starved to death in the streets, in the course of a year. What is your remark on that proportion? And my remark was- for I couldn't think of a better one- that I thought it must be just as hard upon those who were starved , whether the others were a million, or a million million.

You don't know how you haunt and bewilder me. You don't know how the cursed carelessness that is over-officious in helping me at every other turning of my life WON'T help me here. You have struck it dead, I think, and I sometimes wish you had struck me dead along with it.

La fuite vers la grande ville, vers la capitale, pour vivre son homosexualité est un parcours fort classique et fort commun pour un jeune gay.

finalmente mi madre volvió a mudarse con ella: en efecto, cuando cumplió dieciocho años intentó volver a casa de su madre. Quien la acogió. Quien "volvió a aceptarla", según decía. Mi madre le perdonó todo. Estaba feliz de haber vuelto a formar parte de la familia. Pero nunca olvidó el desapego que su madre había demostrado hacia ella y que la angustia causada por la guerra no alcanzaba a justificar.