Quotes About Struggle

he also thinks it's true of most people, that the best part of ourselves is trapped inside the worst part of ourselves and just can't manage to get out.

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win. —Stephen King

Su hijo era una ortodoncia andante, con su factura correspondiente: cuando no estaba en el dentista, estaba encerrado en su habitación haciéndose pajas; y su hija estaba resentida por haber tenido que dejar a sus amigos de Glendora, sobre todo a un tal Travis al que Eddie estaba seguro de que le hacía mamadas.

We rule over gangs—Crips and Bloods and Trinitarios and Latin Lords. Dominicans Don't Play, Broad Day Shooters, Gun Clappin' Goonies, Goons on Deck (seems to be a theme), From Da Zoo, Money Stackin' High, Mac Baller Brims. Folk Nation, Insane Gangster Crips, Addicted to Cash, Hot Boys, Get Money Boys.

And I don't know how to tell you. I can't do this anymore. Go from one life to another, and this life, this life, feels . . . Stupid. Phony. This is not who I am.

It gets in your blood, like you got salt water running through you. The fishermen Danny knows love the sea and hate it, say it's like a cruel woman who hurts you over and over again but you keep going back to her anyway.

People don't usually go off decapitating each other or committing mass murder just because they hate people in another group. These things happen because soul-dead political leaders are in a struggle for power and use ethnic violence as a tool in that struggle. —David Brooks

La speranza non muore in modo rapido e pulito, come un ramo che si spezza sotto il peso di una nevicata. Appassisce lentamente come una pianta non annaffiata.

When you ask people, "What's America's longest war?" they usually answer "Vietnam" or amend that to "Afghanistan," but it's neither. America's longest war is the war on drugs.

I'm not— Lady Macbeth Lucrezia Borgia Catherine the Great. I am —a woman doing what she has to do. I am —the woman you made me. Elena is at war.

Hell isn't having no choice. It's having to make a choice between horrific things.

The Great Depression." What better way to control a free society than to take away their ability to buy, save, and grow?

my insides were ulcerous from coffee and terror.

Self-criticism sessions were held, but these produced more criticism than could usefully be absorbed or accomodated.

Yes, success is everything. Failure is more common. Most achieve a sort of middling thing, but fortunately one's situation is always blurred, you never know absolutely quite where you are.

Capitalism places every man in competition with his fellows for a share of the available wealth. A few people accumulate big piles, but most do not. The sense of community falls victim to this struggle.

Endings are elusive, middles are nowhere to be found, but worst of all is to begin, to begin, to begin.

Why are we fighting them? --They're mad. We're sane. --How do we know? --That we're sane? --Yes. --Am I sane? --To all appearances. --And you, do you consider yourself sane? --I do. --Well, there you have it. --But don't they also consider themselves sane? --I think they know. Deep down. That they're not sane. --How must that make them feel? --Terrible, I should think. They must fight ever more fiercely, in order to deny what they know to be true. That they are not sane.

You are killing me." " -We? Not we. Not in any sense, we. Processes are killing you, not we. Inexorable processes.

y la paz se convirtió en algo desagradable para unos hombres a quienes la guerra había satisfecho durante largo tiempo las necesidades vitales.

History is the record of an encounter between character and circumstances.

The project of recovering myself as subject—that is, of recovering my freedom from its entrapment by the Other—necessarily puts me in conflict with the Other.

I loved it, but social reality impeded. Now I wander in here at 9 in the morning or so, and come back for a while in the afternoon. I am a very lenient boss.

In the cab going downtown, Doug believed he now understood the sensations felt by a person slowly sinking into the grasp of an octopus. Play dead, he told himself. But how?