Quotes About Struggle

Sunt victorii care duc la un impas, tot aÅŸa cum sunt înfrângeri care deschid c?i noi.

Pe cine sa acuzi, vai, daca nu "pe noi doi si ce amaraciune e mai mare decât sa-l ucizi pe cel pe care-l adori prin simplul fapt de a fi împreuna?

Didn't you find it all … rather unsatisfying?" "Yes, but I couldn't seem to see a way out. It was like being three different people, and they all wanted to go different ways." A slight smile. "The result was I went nowhere.

Half the world's work's done by hopeless neurotics.

Sometimes at night I lie awake and quarrel with the voices in my head.

Rivers knew only too well how often the early stages of change or cure may mimic deterioration. Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the proces of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.

And the Great Adventure - the real life equivalent of all the adventure stories they'd devoured as boys - consisted of crouching in a dugout, waiting to be killed. The war that had promised so much in the way of 'manly' activity had actually delivered 'feminine' passivity, and on a scale that their mothers and sisters had hardly known. No wonder they broke down.

how often the early stages of change of cure may mimic deterioration. Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar...the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.

It's strange, isn't it? You go on and on, or I do rather, seeing God knows what horrors and learning not to care or anyway not to care more than you need to do the job, and then something happens that gets right under your skin.

Half the world's work is done by hopeless neurotics

If you live in a society that wishes you didn't exist, anything you do to make yourself happy disrupts its attempts to wipe you out, or at the very least, make you invisible.

She was one of those Southerners who knew from an early age that the South could never be more for them than a fragrant prison, administered by a collective of loving but treacherous relatives.

My mother, Southern to the bone, once told me, "All Southern literature can be summed up in these words: 'On the night the hogs ate Willie, Mama died when she heard what Daddy did to Sister.'" She raised me up to be a Southern writer, but it wasn't easy.

I realize words are never enough; they stutter and cleave to the roof of my mouth.

Because we're human. Like everyone else. And the older we get, the more human we get. The more human we get, the more painful everything becomes.

Humanity is best described as inhumanity.

I was born into the century in which novels lost their stories, poems their rhymes, paintings their form, and music its beauty, but that does not mean I had to like that trend or go along with it. I fight against these movements with every book I write.

And in that instant was born the terrible awareness that life eventually broke every man, but in different ways and at different times.

I lit a cigarette and began puffing on it as I drank one quick beer after another. I was neither a drinker nor a smoker nor a fighter, but I had planned to be all three on this day.

The whole construct of my universe was a cunning, entangled network of lies. I had to start over again. I knew that. And I had to begin by ceasing to loathe myself for my difference from the rest.

College was to teach me that I was one of life's journeymen, eager to excel but lacking the requisite gifts.

She was one of those Southerners who were aware from an early age that the South could never be more for them than a fragrant prison, administered by a collective of loving but treacherous relatives.

You're going to act like a happy man. I know, I know. It's the hardest role in the world.

Well, at least she doesn't have to be a housewife the rest of her life," she said. "What in the hell do you have against housewives?" I said. "I was raised by one," Savannah said. "And it almost ruined my life." "I got knocked around by a shrimper when I was a kid," said Luke, "but I never blamed the shrimp.