Quotes About Struggle

He rather hated hope. `Une immense espérance a traversé la terre', he read somewhere, and his comment was:`---and it's darned-well drowned everything worth having.

He was, in some paralysing way, conscious of his own defencelessness, though he had all the defence of privilege. Which is curious, but a phenomenon of our day.

No, there was something in him that would not give in--neither to the whiskey, nor the woman, nor even the music. Even in the midst of his best music, it sat in the middle of him, this invisible black dog, and growled and waited, never to be cajoled. He knew of its presence--and was a little uneasy. For of course he wanted to let himself go, to feel rosy and loving and all that. But at the very thought, the black dog showed its teeth.

A man's most dangerous moment... is when he's getting into his shirt. Then he puts his head in a bag.

A man has to fend and fettle for the best, and then trust in something beyond himself. You can't insure against the future, except by really believing in the best of you and in the power beyond it.

He was, in some paralyzing way, conscious of his own defenselessness, though he had all the defense of privilege. Which is curious, but a phenomenon of our day.

For some things, said his aunt, it was a good thing Paul was ill that Christmas. I believe it saved his mother. Paul

Some sort of perversity in our souls makes us not want, get away from, the very thing we want. We have to fight against that.

They want me in Lime Street on Monday week, mother, he cried, his eyes blazing, as he read the letter. Mrs Morel felt everything go silent inside her. ... It never occurred to him that she might be more hurt of his going away, than glad of his success.

We've got this great industrial population, and they've got to be fed, so the damn show has to be kept going somehow.

He could not leave her, because in one way she did hold the best of him. He could not stay with her because she did not take the rest of him, which was three-quarters. So he chafed himself into rawness over her.

All human beings are vines. But especially the idealist. He is a vine, and he needs to clutch and climb. And he despises the man who is a mere potato, or turnip, or lump of wood.

He looked in humiliation, anger, wariness and misery at Connie. "Ma lass!" he said. "The world's goin' to put salt on thy tail." "Not if we don't let it," she said.

Ho perso la mia anima, e non posso smettere di parlare con lei. Non posso. Ma non parlo con nessun altro. Mi sforzo di non parlare, ma non posso trattenermi. È lei che mi tira fuori le parole?

La speranza era diventata quasi una maledizione per lei. Avrebbe voluto che non ce ne fosse bisogno. Ah, che tormento quello sperare, che insulto alla propria anima. Perché non c'era un disastro chiaro, completo, in modo da non pensarci più? Questo andirivieni con la speranza era peggio della disperazione…

Lei è come un fiore dietro un sasso, vicino a una pozza gelata. No, lei non vive abbastanza.

There was nothing for her anywhere, but this black disintegration. Yet, within all the great attack of disintegration upon her, she remained herself. It was the terrible core of all her suffering, that she was always herself. Never could she escape that: she could not put off being herself.

There's a bad time coming. There's a bad time coming, boys, there's a bad time coming! If things go on as they are, there's nothing lies in the future but death and destruction for these industrial masses. I feel my inside turn to water sometimes, and there you are, going to have a child by me.

Avluya ç?karken, genç horoz öttü. C?l?zlaÅŸm??, k?s?k bir ses ç?kar?yordu ama kuÅŸun bu sesinde ac?dan kuvvetli bir ÅŸey vard?. YaÅŸamak gerekliliÄŸiydi bu, hatta dirimin zaferini ç???rmakt?.

Bizler k?sa günü daha büyük günün içine al?p küçük yaÅŸamay? daha büyük yaÅŸaman?n döngüsü içine yerleÅŸtirmedikçe her ÅŸey, her ÅŸey bir y?k?md?r.

The rabbit presses back her ears, Turns back her liquid, anguished eyes And crouches low: then with wild spring Spurts from the terror of his oncoming To be choked back, the wire ring Her frantic effort throttling: Piteous brown ball of quivering fears!

where the moon was wrestling heroically to win free of the pack of clouds which hung on her like wolves on a white deer.

Tentei incitá-los à vida, e eles incitaram-me à morte. É sempre o que acontece quando há compulsão. Recuar mata o progresso. Chegou o meu momento de estar só.

And voices in me said, if you were a man You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off. But must I confess how I liked him, How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless, Into the burning bowels of this earth? Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured? I felt so honoured.