Quotes About Struggle

His mother felt that the Sundays may have been a very unfortunate family, and that certainly life was harder in those days during and after the War Between the States, and you had to make your way as best you could, God knew, and Mary Jane Sunday, who had been a Corey, had done the best she could

Margret saw that this is how it is that folk are made to desire what they know they should not have, they are made to wait for it, so that when it comes, no matter how dark and full of sin and repellent it is, they are glad enough to welcome it.

how does the devil get into you like that?

Mama said that there was not going to be a bank robbery—the Lord wouldn't allow it. Frank didn't see why not, and Papa seemed to agree with him—he said, "Well, he's allowed plenty of 'em." Mama said that sometimes Satan got away with things and sometimes he didn't

Farmers' Holiday Association.

Dejé de ser la intermediaria entre el capataz y los peones, la responsable de todo. La mujer que acababa el día hecha jirones y que era remendada durante la noche con el único propósito de poder ser despedazada de nuevo a la mañana siguiente.

Once again, the curious thing was how strange and forceful the world was, how it battered and clanged and could not be withstood, and yet some individuals withstood it while others did not.

but, between you and me, being a woman is a dangerous business, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Oh, those men

but no matter how receptive his pretty and sweet speech therapist looked, no matter how softly and encouragingly she said, "Go ahead, try it. Say it," still, the sounds came out like mooing.

Dana seemed to me to be sort of like a hot-air balloon. The more weight we could hang on her, in terms of children, houses, belongings, foodstuffs, office equipment, and debts, the harder it would be for her to gain altitude.

no matter how hard she tried to love them equally and for themselves, as Jesus loved all the little children, was now not the favorite. She thought of a phrase from the Bible—where, she did not know—"In all that has happened to

Wanting to die and dying, she found were two separate things.

Know, my son, that the enemy will always be with you. He will be in the shadow of your dreams and in your living flesh, for he is the other part of yourself. There will be times when he will surround you with walls of darkness. But remember always that your soul is secure to you, for your soul is entire, and that he cannot enter your soul, for your soul is part of God.

He wishes to be far away, either at sea or on the shore. In between, he realizes, is the most difficult of all places to be.

But wanting and getting are hard neighbors and bitter friends.

Fiction is like wrestling with angels-you do not expect to win, but you do expect to come away from the experience changed.

War is our backyard, famine our feast. Most fear the wind of our wings and even, in their hurt, pray for life. Only a few, a very few, truly pray for death. But we answer all their prayers with the same coin.

People were dying around us, of starvation, tuberculosis, cholera, typhus, typhoid, deportation, influenza, heartbreak. Their lungs were filling up because of the cold. They were being shot for walking too quickly, staring too hard, not answering questions fast enough or answering too fast, or just because they wore the yellow star. To die was easy. To live was harder. Papa said to us, "We have chosen the more difficult path, that of life. Now we must walk it." We walked.

At least Em, long-suffering as she was, tried to give the child a bit of her heart, which - after all those years of living with Henry on that old gray farm in the middle of the gray prairie - was as dried up as an old pea. She tried, but she wasn't much good at it. It was a bit like trying to water a budding flower in the middle of a dry Kansas summer with a watering can poked through with holes.

Sometimes living takes more courage than dying

Truth is, I'm a good Catholic girl. The faith has always been elusive, but the guilt is intractable.

This is war,' I yelled through the door. Lucky for me,' Morelli said. 'I give good war.

It's fucking hard to be classy

The way I see it, living in New Jersey is a challenge, what with the toxic waste and the eighteen wheelers and the armed schizophrenics. Connie Rosolli