Quotes About Struggle

Reacher smiled. Bad luck and trouble, been my only friends.

The line between Hope and Despair was exactly that: a line, in the road

Some kind of internecine conflict, over the spoils.

So he died, because for a split-second he got brave. But not then. He died much later, after the split-second of bravery had faded into long hours of wretched gasping fear, and after the long hours of fear had exploded into long minutes of insane screaming panic.

I had worked my butt off for those bastards. I was good at my job. I had made them a fortune. And they just slung me out like suddenly I was shit on their shoe. And I was scared. I was going to lose it all, right? And I was tired. I couldn't start again at the bottom of something else. I was too old and I had no energy. I just didn't know what to do.

then to turn and kick the back seat guy, in the head, and the front seat guy, the same, to keep them out of action on the ground, and

They're trying to carve gaps in society that are too big to bridge.

no one should ever underestimate the appeal of an opiate high. Far as I can tell, it's a beautiful thing. The way they talk about it, it's the best thing ever. For some folks it hits the spot so hard it reboots their lives.

All he could hear was a small voice inside his head that was saying you were wrong. Completely wrong. It was a voice he had heard before, but that didn't make it any easier to hear again, because he had built his whole career on hearing it fewer times than the next guy. It was like a box score in his mind, and his average had just taken some serious damage. Which upset him. Not because of vanity. It upset him because he was a professional who was supposed to get things right.

He was moving in the chair. Imperceptibly. Tiny violent movements, from side to side. Like he was fighting two alternating opponents, one on his left, one on his right. Like he knew he had to tell me where he had been, but like he knew he couldn't. He was jumping around like the absolute flesh-and-blood definition of a rock and a hard place.

Here's to bloody wars and dread diseases

desperate. How could fiction help? Which it had to

Reacher let him fall. He landed on the bricks outside the bag shop, one arm right and the other arm wrong, like a swastika. He was breathing. A little bubbly, from the blood in his throat. His nose was badly busted. Cheekbones, too, maybe. Some of his teeth were out. Upper row, mostly. His dentist's kid was going to be just fine for college.

Did he make it?" "By the skin of his teeth. They medevaced him. The hospital induced a coma before the worst symptoms set in. That saved him a lot of agony. And probably saved his life.

Moving a guy as big as Keever wasn't easy. It was like trying to wrestle a king-size mattress off a waterbed. So they buried him close to the house.

Billy was a hardscrabble country boy, maybe forty years old, lean and furtive, like a fox and a squirrel had a kid, and spent half the time baking it in the sun, and the other half beating it with a stick.

people who have spent their lives in the military have trouble adjusting to civilian life afterward.

damn miles.

With his life. But Springfield is just one guy.

Cand e vorba de sange, cu putin ajungi departe.

This is an event horizon, colonel. This is where it all goes wrong. Possibly for nothing. Possibly for some little thing other guys have gotten away with. But you're going to crash and burn. Best case, you're going to stall. Best case, you're going to get an asterisk against your name forever. As in, we can't be sure about that guy.

before the doctors. Right here in Chicago. We

It's what we say in the army when we're going to beat someone to death.

mano a mano