Quotes About Struggle

he was trying to convince himself that he wasn't guilty.

On the streets of the city They have taken my Who-I-Am As well as my What-I-Was And now I am desperate for them both Again

It is much easier to see the redemptive role of pain and suffering in God's plan if you are not actually undergoing pain and suffering. It was only by struggling with such feelings, however, that growth occurred. Each victory over discouragement gave an increase in spiritual courage; every success, however fleeting, in finding the hand of God behind all things, made it easier to recapture the sense of his purpose in a new day of seemingly senseless

It was not the Soviet government or the NKVD versus Walter Ciszek. It was God versus Walter Ciszek. God was testing me by this experience, like gold in the furnace, to see how much of self remained after all my prayers and professions of faith in his will.

it was easy to float freely and euphorically into the future, ready to accept whatever God might have prepared for me there. But the future was now the present, and as is always the case, it was a lot more unmanageable and full of bustle than it had seemed in the abstract. Accordingly, my new spirit of interior resolve to search out and understand and accept God's will in every detail of every situation was quickly put to a rude test by the rough and ready realities of life.

No matter how close to God the soul felt, how blessed it was by an awareness of his presence on occasion, the realities of life were always at hand, always demanding recognition, always demanding acceptance. I had continuously to learn to accept God's will—not as I wished it to be, not as it might have been, but as it actually was at the moment. And it was through the struggle to do this that spiritual growth and a greater appreciation of his will took place.

They're up here, and they're lost. Once their obedience to Earth gave them meaning, and then their struggle against it, but now they don't know what to do. They're too distracted by their structures. They got their independence, but they don't know what it means, and they're looking for the things that will give it meaning.

I hate it!" he said. "I don't want to be human anymore." "Neither do I," she said. "It's not a good place to be.

To try to fashion something from suffering, to relish our triumphs, and to endure defeats without resentment: all that is compatible with the faith of a heretic.

Man stands alone in the universe, responsible for his condition, likely to remain in a lowly state, but free to reach above the stars.

Perfection lies in intensity, and what is most intense cannot be endured long.

In the blood of the martyrs to intolerance are the seeds of unbelief.

He seemed to be buffeted from both sides, challenged by his dreams, which revolted at the compromises of reality, and assaulted by reality which denounced the emptiness of all dreams. He seemed to spend himself in that struggle - the severest that a man can face; and he seemed to win by a constant renewal of effort in which he refused to sink either into placid acceptance of the world, or into self-contained satisfaction with his vision.

That's the trouble. I would be digging a ditch. They would say, That's no place for a man like you. Come up to the office. So I would be an overseer, and they would say That's no place for a man like you: Come into the building. Later they would say This is no job for a man like you, come higher up; and I would quit, and go and start digging a ditch somewhere else. You see?

Why did Baudelaire — why does anyone — write poetry, in the teeth of all the evidence that one wants you to do so? No one wants you to write it and having written it in spite of them, no one wants to read it. Above all, no one wants to pay for it. For better or worse, a poem has a hard time turning into a commodity.

but I was urged on by a courage born of despair.

That was a day that taught me the meaning of abject failure.

Auch er stieg funkelnd empor im größten und schrecklichsten Feuer, das Buchheim je heimgesucht hatte. Er, der Brandstifter und Zündfunke, flog hinauf, um dort oben ein Stern zu werden und für alle Zeit hinabzustrahlen auf eine Welt, die zu eng war für einen so großen Geist wie ihn.

Er dachte bereits daran, in sein Gasthaus der Tränen zu gehen und sich dort aufzuhängen, an einem Strick aus Traumfäden.

Das Leben, mein Junge, ist nicht nur eine wilde, schöne Reise. Leben, das heißt auch: dem Tod bei der Arbeit zuzusehen. Das ist das Härteste überhaupt! Das muss man aushalten können. Bist du bereit, das auszuhalten, mein Junge?

When you deal with a person who's experiencing dementia, you can see where they're struggling with knowledge. You can see what they forget completely, what they forget but they know what they once knew. You can tell how they're trying to remember.

It hurts when they're gone. And it doesn't matter if it's slow or fast, whether it's a long drawn-out disease or an unexpected accident. When they're gone the world turns upside down and you're left holding on, trying not to fall off.

The life most of us live are lives we are forced to live by immediate needs, influences, and pressures.

The great man say that life is pain," Coydog had said over eighty-five years before. "That mean if you love life, then you love the hurt come along wit' it. Now, if that ain't the blues, I don't know what is.