Quotes About Struggle

I'm whining. It's unattractive, but I find I'm powerless to stop

God save me from a woman's tears, for I've no strength against them.

the mural, there were painted lines for the Underground, like scars stretched across the skin of the infected nation. There were wounds and then there were wounds.

She wears her grief like a coat of feathers too heavy for flight. He crossed out heavy, wrote weighted instead, then decided that was downright pretentious and put heavy back in.

You couldn't be perfect enough to keep the world from betraying you.

It's funny. I used to feel that I wouldn't care if I died. I just kept throwing myself at life, hoping I'd hit a bull's-eye eventually. I thought death would be a relief from all that feeling. A relief not to have all that pain. Not to care so much,' Evie said.

It is the taste of forgetting. Of sleep and dreams with no waking. Never to long or yearn, to struggle or hurt or love or desire ever again. And I understand that this is what it truly means to lose your soul.

No, you're right. I shan't ever understand your willingness to lie down and die, Felicity barks. If you won't at least try to fight, I have no sympathy for you.

Why had this power come to me? I can scarcely govern myself. At times, I feel as if I could dance through the halls with happiness, and then, just as suddenly, my thoughts are dark and lost and frightening.

Why was his grief more powerful than his love? Why couldn't he find it within himself to fight back? Why am I not enough to live for?

I don't understand why he had to fight. He was already in heaven. True. But he wasn't content to serve. He wanted more. He had all he could ask for, didn't he? Ann asks. Exactly. Miss Moore states. He had to ask. He was dependent upon someone else's whim. It's a terrible thing to have no power of one's own. To be denied.

It was so hard to feel safe in the world when you were a girl.

Nicole hated that she could never quite feel like she was just herself, just Nicole, but that she was somehow representing an entire race. That's how they saw her, as a "they" and not a "she.

They weren't protected by our own laws. They were on their own. Doesn't sound terribly American. On the contrary, it's very American, Will said bitterly

Imagine living each day and not being able to trust your own mind. Imagine having it lie to you, trick you, tell you you're worthless or that the world would be better off without you in it. It would be like… like always hearing an awful radio playing inside your head, one that you can't seem to turn off.

I can see those… hideous beasts coming out of the burning walls. I hear Naughty John telling me—warning me—about my own brother! He knew about James, Sam. When I stand still, I see all of it. So I don't stand still, and I certainly don't go looking for more. And every night before bed, I pray for those pictures to go out of my head. When the prayers don't work, I ask the gin to do it.

Do right. It's what Ling's mother would say. But in times like these, how could you know what was right? Ling sat on the steps for a while longer, watching Alma's champagne-colored dress swish down the street. Only when Alma rounded the corner did Ling let out the chocking sob. Good-bye, she whispered. Nearby, the bird watched her intently.

But as he listened to the moans and cries of those around him, he understood that hope was not a concept of faith meant to bring man closer to God but one of denial and delusion meant to keep him from accepting that God did not exist.

But we can't live in the light all of the time. You have to take whatever light you can hold into the dark with you." I

I saw things in that war that a man shouldn't ever have see. Things that make you forget we're human and not just a bunch of beasts crawling out of the sludge somewhere. And the damnedest part of it all is, I couldn't for the life of me remember what we were fighting for in the first place.

You're perfect just the way you are...is what your guidance counselor says. And she's an alcoholic.

You know who's getting hurt? Workers. Poor people. Immigrants. Every day. It's a rigged game, Evie. The people at the top say they believe in the people at the bottom until those people try to climb up. And then the people at the top step on the hands of the climbing people they claim to believe in and cast them down the ladder.

There's a great big hole in the middle of me, and no matter how hard I try, I can't fill it. I try to keep the awful, empty sadness out, but it keeps coming back in...

But this time she'd done everything right and they were leaving her anyway. You couldn't be perfect enough to keep the world from betraying you.