Quotes About Struggle

Or any number of the jobs she'd tried and failed at before seeing a story in The Atlanta Journal about women police officers being trained for motorcycle patrol. Motorcycle patrol! Kate laughed at her naïveté. If the firearms instructors were loath to train women, the motorcycle division was downright hostile to the idea of women on bikes. The riding instructor wouldn't even allow them inside the garage.

injustice was never more tragic than when you found it knocking at your own door.

Dr. Monroe and I realized very gradually that drug addiction is a terminal disease. It is a cancer that eats families alive." She stood up and walked across the room to the grand piano, saying, "You get to a point where you look around and you ask yourself, 'What is this doing to the rest of my family? What harm am I doing to my other children by concentrating all of my energy on rescuing this one child who will not be saved?

Everybody had something horrible happen to them at one time or another in their life; it was part of the human condition. How they struggled through adversity proved what kind of people they were.

Lydia asked, "Do you have a problem with drugs and alcohol?" Claire struggled to return the glass to the floor. "Yes. The problem is that I don't like them very much.

No one saw it at the time, but her addiction had never been about the high, it has been about the escape. She had been actively seeking ways to destroy herself.

You gotta go through a special kind of hell or a special

you cannot fight a man's history.

Will's scars were both emotional and physical. He didn't trust people - at least not enough. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth. Actually, getting him to talk about anything of true importance was like pulling the Titanic through quicksand. With a shoestring.

It wasn't enough for Julia to be taken away from the family. All the good things about her had to be taken away, too.

There are good days and bad days, and as long as there aren't too many of either, you get along with your life fine.

Claire knew full well from the videos that there were things a man could do to a woman that didn't kill her, but made her wish she was dead.

It was like she was standing on the beach in the middle of a hurricane.

He fell into the empty seat at the back of the bus, half-wishing the lightning zigzagging out of the sky would come through the window and hit him right in the head.

You get to a point where you look around and you ask yourself, 'What is this doing to the rest of my family? What harm am I doing to my other children by concentrating all of my energy on rescuing this one child who will not be saved?

looked like a deformed monkey holding either a baseball bat or an erect penis in his three-fingered hand. Lena sighed, wondering what the fuck she was doing here. Maybe she should just go to the station tomorrow and talk to Jeffrey. There had to be a way to convince him that she was not involved in this case. She should just go home right now, pour herself a drink, and try to get some sleep, so that when the

Belle Isle Andy hadn't had a drink since she'd returned home. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to break the streak. Still, she took a cup and sat cross-legged on the floor so that her dad could sit in the chair

the luxury vacations had come as a personal affront to a woman who had survived the Great Depression, a world war, the death of a husband, the loss of two children, and countless other hardships. Claire

sick of floating between disaster points like an amoeba inside a petri dish.

She wanted to talk to the stranger who had kidnapped her son, to beg him to give her her Johnny back. She knew her baby was in there somewhere, and she would not give up.

out by opioids or willful denial. It was like her emotional maturation had stopped the second she'd swallowed that first Oxycontin.

My father is dead. My husband left me. The last few days have been the shittiest days I've had since you were shot and Mama died. I'm sorry I'm not happy and peppy for you, but my give-a-fuck is broken .

Just about every gang in America had started as a group of minorities, be they Irish, Jewish, Italian, or other, banding together for survival. It generally took a couple of years before they started doing worse than was done to them.

You were still trying to figure out what to do with all the rage and lust and anger that sparked up like a forest fire for no reason. Will had been exactly like them at that age—so damn desperate for someone to show him how to be a man.