Quotes About Struggle

È una di quelle cose che è meglio che non ci pensi, se no ci esci matto. Quando cade un quadro. Quando ti svegli, un mattino, e non la ami più. Quando apri il giornale e leggi è scoppiata la guerra. Quando vedi un treno e pensi io devo andarmene da qui. Quando ti guardi allo specchio e ti accorgi che sei vecchio.

Estás a punto de desvanecerte, y entonces yo me digo tienes que pensar en algo, tienes que mantenerte aferrada a un pensamiento, si consigo hacerme pequeña en ese pensamiento después todo pasará, sólo hay que resistir, pero lo cierto es que…, eso es de verdad el horror…, lo cierto es que ya no hay pensamientos, en ninguna parte en tu interior, ya no queda ni un pensamiento sino sólo sensaciones.

Uno tiene sus sueños, cosas suyas, íntimas, y después la vida no quiere seguir jugando contigo, y te lo desmonta, un instante, una frase, y todo se desvanece. Suele ocurrir. Por esta razón y no por otra vivir es una tarea dolorosa.

Passionate impulses are not for mollusks, especially us snails. I had rashes on my squamae, and my mesenchyma was in pieces. With the end of the reproductive season, the hormonal levels had dropped, and the romantic agitations had dropped with them. Youth had vanished, and my mucus was drying up.

Even in a golden cage, the nightingale yearns for its native land," says an old proverb.

Anyone else feel like that? Like your life's a big act. Like you're trying to be a man when you're just a scared kid, trying to keep under control when you really want to scream, cry, maybe hit someone. Ever feel like you're breathing underwater, and you have to stop because you're gulping in too much fluid?

Jed! I got stuck in some air pocket with more exits than... I couldn't think of anything famous with a large number of exits I nearly drowned!

And there was a lot of exclaiming about some Massa Patrick Henry having cried out, 'Give me liberty or give me death!' Kunta liked that, but he couldn't understand how somebody white could say it; white folks looked pretty free to him.

Yeah, like that old Chinese curse about living in interesting times. Interesting times meant the barbarians were about to ride over your fields and kill you and your family.

But now to die would be, indeed, to give way to the sarcasm of destiny.

He took with him into private life his enemies and his wounds, the only profits that generally accrue to honest people who are guilty of having worked for their country rather than for themselves.

Who talks most about freedom and equality? Is it not those who hold the bill of rights in one hand and a whip for affrighted slaves in the other?

I don't know, Alexander, sometimes it gets so bad you can't think of nothing better to do than make it worse.

I wish I wasn't me.

At this time of day it should have been open and full of fifty fellow smackheads, crackheads, psychotics, epileptics, schizophrenics, self-harmers, beggars, buskers, car thieves, sherry pushers, ciderheads, just-released-that-morning convicts, ex-army, ex-married-men-with-young-children-who'd-discovered-their-wife-in-bed-with-two-members-of-the-university-rowing-team-at-the-same-time.

Homelessness–it's not about not having a home. It's about something being seriously fucking wrong.

Put two macho groups together and give the first desperation and numbers, and the second truncheons and protective clothing, and the result is like a laboratory civil war.

Other attempts appear as scars, weals, parentheses in conversation, absent days in his diary. But, at the same time, according to Stuart's weird sense of etiquette on such subjects, only one son in a family is allowed to kill himself, else it puts too much strain on the parents, and his brother, Gavvy, like Jacob in the Old Testament, has stolen Stuart's birthright.

Sometimes Stuart seems like an irritable fisherman. He bobs about, on the disruption of his life, a small, unsteady figure, fishing for order. Then he gets into a rage, 'goes right on one', and it is as if he's taken out the gutting knife and mashed his catch to a pulp - every sign of hated, repressive, reminding order is gone again.

We can't afford to be without God, Feliks continued. Even if he doesn't exist, we have to hold on to him. Because if we don't, then how are we to convince ourselves that we have to go on with this fight? If you take God out of it, then right and justice become small, human things. And weak things, too.

Daughters could survive a powerful mother, but boys found it almost impossible. Such boys were often severely damaged and spent the rest of their lives running away from their mothers, or from anybody who remotely reminded them of their mothers; either that, or they became their mothers, in a desperate, misguided act of psychological self defence.

There is a difference between a challenge and a burden. One is something you can carry on your shoulders easily enough—the other is something, a big sack, that bends you double.

None of us knows how we will cope with snakes until the moment arises, and then most of us find out that we do not do it very well.

Sometimes it was difficult to be as tolerant as he wanted to be; but then, thought Ulf, the whole point about high ideals is that they are high. Being Swedish was not always easy, but you had to do your best, and hope that you didn't slip, and become... well, Mediterranean in outlook.