Quotes About Struggle

When I became a mother, I was trying so hard, using reusable diapers, washing them, looking for organic supplies even though it's much more expensive, and facing so many challenges attempting to do the right thing.

My home life, growing up, was like tumbling inside a washing machine as I shuttled around the middle of Kentucky with my mother. She was never content to stay in one place, or with one man, for too long. She was as smart as she was independent, though, and always landed some job that brought in a little money.

I had very few friends. There was nobody I could trust. I left home when I was fifteen. I lived in Washington Square Park.

Washington is gripped by crab-in-the-bucket syndrome. And there's no cure in sight. Put a single crab in an uncovered bucket, and it will find a way to climb up and out on its own. Put a dozen crabs in a bucket, and 11 will fight with all their might to pull down the striver who attempts escape.

Though many of the poor have come to see the affluent middle class as its enemy, that class actually stands between the poor and the real powers in this society - the administrative octopus with its head in Washington, the conglomerates, the military complex.

I started out as a duo with Mis-Teeq's Sabrina Washington, and we worked for four or five years before signing a record deal. I had no money, and I was taking part-time jobs just to earn the train fare to get to rehearsals.

Washington, D.C. in 1942 was not the easiest place in the world for a Negro to get along.

Washington's defeat in 1754 was followed by active military preparations on both sides.

Washington shows the Negro not only at his best, but also at his worst.

I grew up in Chillum Heights in the Washington, D.C. area., and it was never a garden spot. When guys go, 'Hey, when I grew up, my neighborhood was tough, and it was this and that'... the reality is that it was just a terribly sad place. And thank God, I was able to escape it.

My mother was born in your state, Mr. Walter, and my mother was a Quaker, and my ancestors in the time of Washington baked bread for George Washington's troops when they crossed the Delaware, and my own father was a slave.

I saw the void beneath the surface of the world; it threatened to pull me under.

Dying took commitment. It was easier to go on living incompetently.

Sometimes everyone does their best and things still go wrong.

For a fleeting instant, in the sad curve of his shoulders, I saw what Comonot could not: the core of decency; the weight he had carried so long; the endless struggle to do right in the wake of this irreversible wrong; the grieving husband and frightened father; the author of all those love songs. For the first time, I understood.

I was just chased through St. Willibald's, and you know why? Because I was kind to a quig. I scrupulously hide every legitimate reason for people to hate me, and then it turns out they don't need legitimate reasons. Heaven has fashioned a knife of irony to stab me with.

On a good day, he was friend enough. On a bad day, running into his inadequacy was like tripping up the stairs. It hurt, but it felt like my own fault.

Tess trembled so hard her teeth chattered. "So it is with the body," said the nun, eyes narrowing fiercely. "The hated innocent becomes hateful. Goodness withers when it is continuously ground underfoot. We fulfill our parents' direst prophecies, then curl around our own pain until we can't see beyond ourselves.

It's more like ... she has grown too big and feels trapped in her own skin.

O saar, beware! Beware the horde, The ones you never see. We build your lairth, Repair, invent, We do all this for free. You torch our hideth You crunch our boneth Kill with impunity, But we are not Tho helpless now. Our day cometh. We are free.

This clod is like my heart I smash it all apart I had one goal, to keep it whole But that's beyond my art

There's a room in my heart full of unpaid bills. We all have one. It's useful to go in occasionally and open a few.

No matter how much you wanted to do right in this world, the world would find a way to crush you.

The hated innocent becomes hateful. Goodness withers when it is continuously ground underfoot.