Quotes About Struggle

Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far.

But now he was little more than a whimpering oyster led to be devoured on the sands of a Southern sea by the artful walrus, Circumstance, and the implacable carpenter, Fate.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

La resignación es una de nuestras virtudes populares. Más que el brillo de la victoria nos conmueve la entereza ante la adversidad.

Death and birth are solitary experiences. We are born alone and we die alone. When we are expelled from the maternal womb, we begin the painful struggle that finally ends in death.

In my house there were more dead than living. My mother, a thousand-year-old girl, mother of the world, my orphan, self-sacrificing, ferocious, stubborn, provident, titmouse, bitch, ant, wild boar, love letter with spelling mistakes; my mother: bread I'd slice with her own knife each day.

La historia del amor es inseparable de la historia de la libertad de la mujer.

better to be stoned in the plaza than to turn the mill that squeezes out the juice of life, that turns eternity into empty hours, minutes into prisons, and time into copper coins and abstract shit

se derrumban por un instante inmenso y vislubramos nuestra unidad perdida, el desamparo que es ser hombres, la gloria que es ser hombres y compartir el pan, el sol, la muerte, el olvidado asombro de estar vivos

Desde niños nos enseñan a sufrir con dignidad las derrotas, concepción que no carece de grandeza.

nacimos cuando ya era tarde en la historia, tampoco tenemos un pasado o, si lo tenemos, hemos escupido sobre sus restos, nuestros pueblos se echaron a dormir durante un siglo y mientras dormían los robaron y ahora andan en andrajos, no logramos conservar ni siquiera lo que los españoles dejaron al irse, nos hemos apuñalado entre nosotros...-.

victory comes only after many struggles and countless defeats.

I will know that only those with inferior ability can always be at their best, and I am not inferior. There will be days when I must constantly struggle against forces which would tear me down. Those such as despair and sadness are simple to recognize but there are others which approach with a smile and the hand of friendship and they can also destroy me. Against them, too, I must never relinquish control—

Men endured so much for war, but for peace they dared nothing.

No visiting angel, or explorer from another planet could have guessed that this bland orb teemed with vermin, with world-mastering, self-torturing, incipiently angelic beasts.

I'm afraid I'm not working out according to plan, he said. But if I am really a person you shouldn't expect me to. Why did you make me without making a world for me to live in. It's as though God had made Adam and not bothered to make Eden, nor Eve. I think it's going to be frightfully difficult being me.

Homo sapiens is a spider trying to crawl out of a basin. The higher he crawls, the steeper the hill. Sooner or later, down he goes. So long as he's on the bottom, he can get along quite nicely, but as soon as he starts climbing, he begins to slip. And the higher he climbs the farther he falls. It doesn't matter which direction he tries. He can make civilization after civilization, but every time, long before he begins to be really civilized, skid!

Joy leaks out when there are enough cracks.

We can ast for comfort and hope and patience and courage . . . and we'll git what we ast for. They ain't no gar'ntee thet we ain't go'n have no troubles and ain't go'n die. But shore as frogs croak and cows bellow, God'll forgive us if'n we ast Him to.

When Love and Life first meet, a radiant thing is born, without a shade. When the roads begin to roughen, when the shades begin to darken, when the days are hard, and the nights cold and long—then it begins to change.

why am I so alone, so hard, so cold? I am so weary of myself! It is eating my soul to its core,--self, self, self! I cannot bear this life! I cannot breathe, I cannot live! Will nothing free me from myself?' She pressed her cheek agains the wooden post. 'I want to love! I want something great and pure to lift me to itself! Dear old man, I cannot bear it any more! I am so cold, so hard, so hard; will no one help me!

An easy life is rarely meaningful and a meaningful life rarely easy.

For a radical Jihadist, this fight is all about dying the right way while killing an infidel. For us, it's all about living the right way because all the dying necessary was done for us two thousand years ago on a hill called Calvary.

Just like a spider with a line of silk! Did you ever see them throw themselves out into space to weave? They're taking a chance, every single time. They got to do it or else they'd never create anything. But I bet it don't feel good, even to a spider.