Quotes About Struggle

May you always live in interesting times.

To be damned by the devil is to be truly blessed.

It is easy to get a thousand prescriptions but hard to get one single remedy.

The gem cannot be polished without friction, not a man perfected without trials.

Just as tall trees are known by their shadows, so are good men known by their enemies.

Kötü, hemen hemen her defas?nda, niçin 'iyi'den daha güçlü olarak ortaya ç?k?yor ?

Fainting with heat, he suddenly found himself in the cold, cold river. He had turned into a fish. Tail, body, fins - everything was fishlike, except the head, which was his own and still ached. He swam through the muted, cool, underwater darkness and thought that now he would remain a fish forever and never go back to the moutains. "I won't return," he said to himself. "It's better to be a fish, it's better to be a fish...

Böyle korkunç olaylar bazen insanlar?n da ba??na gelebilir. Üstesinden gelemedi?i çeli?kilerle ba? ba?a kalan insan, moral bak?m?ndan derinden derine sars?l?r ama bunu kimseye söyleyemez, çünkü kimse ona yard?m edemez. Bu korkunç bir yer kaymas? gibidir, tehlikeyi görürsünüz, ama bir ?ey yapamazs?n?z.

Bir insan?n kaderi, da?daki patika gibidir: bazen ç?kar, bazen iner, bazen de dibi görünmeyen bir uçurumun ba??na gelip durur.Insan tek ba??na böyle bir yolda ilerleyemez ama birle?enler, birbirine omuz verenler her engeli a?arlar.

All that had taken place in many years of life at Boranly-Burannyi junction, all this great strain over a long time, all the troubles, difficulties and joys he had lived through - all this had to be expressed in a few words of farewell in the few minutes of laying to rest. How much, yet how little, is given to a man!

Là dove il popolo partiva per la guerra, restavano sentieri amari… E tutto quell'universo di terrestre bellezza e di angosce, Danijar l'apriva davanti a me nel suo canto. Dove aveva imparato, da chi aveva avuto tutto ciò? Capivo che così può amare la sua terra solo chi per lunghi anni ha languito per essa, chi ha patito di questo amore. Quando la cantava, vedevo proprio lui, un povero ragazzetto, vagabondare per le strade della steppa.

Kim yaratm??t?? Kuma olmaktan, insan?n ruhuyla, bedeniyle tutsak olmas?ndan daha küçültücü ?ey var m? dünyada? Zavall? kad?nlar, mezarlar?n?zdan kalk?n! K?zl?klar? ellerinden zorla al?nm?? kad?nlar?n, a?a??lanm?? kad?nlar?n ruhlar?, kalk?n! Kalk?n, kötü dünyalar?, pis dünyalar? titretin! Ben ça??r?yorum sizi, ben, sonuncunuz! Ben, ba?kald?ran kuma.

Our negative life situations are essential elements for us to fulfill our intended destiny. However, unless we possess the power of endurance to live through the dark of the night, we will not see the glory of daybreak.

To answer oppression with appropriate resistance requires knowledge of two kinds: in the first place, self-knowledge by the victim, which means awareness that oppression exists, an awareness that the victim has fallen from a great height of glory or promise into the present depths; secondly, the victim must know who the enemy is. He must know his oppressor's real name, not an alias, a pseudonym, or a nom de plume!

Writers don't give prescriptions. They give headaches!

The writer is often faced with two choices--turn away from the reality of life's intimidating complexity or conquer its mystery by battling with it. The writer who chooses the former soon runs out of energy and produces elegantly tired fiction.

This is not pessimism but rather casting a cold eye on things. It is only one man's story, and I think that things will go better, but difficulties exist and nothing is served by hiding them under a poetic veil or under a lyricism of the past. I am against slogans.

No Madonna and Child could touch Her tenderness for a son She soon would have to forget.... The air was heavy with odors of diarrhea, Of unwashed children with washed-out ribs And dried-up bottoms waddling in labored steps Behind blown-empty bellies. Other mothers there Had long ceased to care, but not this one: She held a ghost-smile between her teeth, And in her eyes the memory Of a mother's pride...

We must now turn from considering the necessary struggle with language arising, as it were, from its very nature and the nature of the society it serves to the more ominous threat to its integrity brought about neither by its innate inadequacy nor yet by the incompetence and carelessness of its ordinary users, but rather engineered deliberately by those who will manipulate words for their own ends.

I broke at last the terror-fringed fascination that bound my ancient gaze to those crowding faces of plunder and seized my remnant life in a miracle of decision between white collar hands and shook it like a cheap watch in my ear and threw it down beside me on the earth floor and rose to my feet.

The women are, of course, the biggest single group of oppressed people in the world and, if we are to believe the Book of Genesis, the very oldest.

He who fights for a ne'er-do-well has nothing to show for it except a head covered in earth and grime.

Despite the daunting problems of identity that beset our contemporary society, we can see in the horizon the beginnings of a new relationship between artist and community which will not flourish like the mango-trick in the twinkling of an eye but will rather, in the hard and bitter manner of David Diop's young tree, grow patiently and obstinately to the ultimate victory of liberty and fruition.

Perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man. But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness. It was deeper and more intimate that the fear of evil and capricious gods and of magic, the fear of the forest, and of the forces of nature, malevolent, red in tooth and claw. Okonkwo's fear was greater than these. It was not external but lay deep within himself.