Quotes About Struggle

The night of the fire, the night they took me in, I could hear Mrs. Schatzman in her bedroom, fretting with her husband about what to do with me. "I didn't ask for this," she hissed, the words as distinct to my ears as if she'd been in the same room. "Those Irish! Too many children in too small a space. The only surprise is that this kind of thing doesn't happen more.

Feeding Carmine bread soaked in milk reminds me of the Irish dish called champ I often made for Maisie and the boys—a mash of potatoes, milk, green onions (on the rare occasion when we had them), and salt. On the nights when we went to bed hungry, all of us dreamed of that champ.

Perhaps Anita Loos had been right when she wrote that family life was only fit for those who could stand it.

So tired am I, so weary of to-day, So unrefreshed from foregone weariness, So overburdened by foreseen distress, So lagging and so stumbling on my way, I scarce can rouse myself to watch or pray, To hope, or aim, or toil for more or less,-- Ah, always less and less, even while I press Forward and toil and aim as best I may. Half-starved of soul and heartsick utterly, Yet lift I up my heart and soul and eyes Which fail in looking upward

Sleeping at last, the trouble and turmoil over,Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,Sleeping at last.

God strengthen me to bear myself;That heaviest weight of all to bear,Inalienable weight of care.

That act alone made my blood boil. I wasn't sure how long I could sit through this meal without ravishing more than just the food.

Around the world, a woman's body is still very much a battlefield and hundreds of thousands of women bear the invisible wounds of war.

subjugating opponents, what the Romans termed Vae victis (Woe to the conquered).

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.

For I am bound with fleshly bands, Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope; I strain my heart, I stretch my hands, And catch at hope.

she is never more herself than when she destroys herself.

She said she hated my children—her own children, Looloo-dirl, her own children!

He wanted to be angry, his mission was was to be angry, and he had nothing to be angry about; the world would not let him rave, this was the great injustice he suffered from.

The entire gamut of scandal, hate, and lying is prepared for a poor man in this world who dares to work for the truth. That is why they got rid of me too: they feared me, for wickedness fears Truth.

Henny "was one of those women who secretly symphathize with all women against all men; life was a rotten deal, with men holding all the aces.

Henny was one of those women who secretly sympathize with all women against all men; life was a rotten deal, with men holding all the aces.

There were torments in the Himalayas, windspouts in the Grand Canyon, and Judges of the Supreme Court got into sacred rages. What could little boys do, too, about differences between their hearthstones, Mother and Father?

She would never again try to knit even one stitch in the long chain of their married life. She hated all that was to come.

I'll find a way. There must be a way. And I'll take my children from you. The man who loves children! You can have your own. That's all you really care about

You were breaking my bones and spirit and forcing your beastly love on me: a brute, a savage, a wild Indian wouldn't do what you did, slobbering round me and calling it love and filling me with children month after month and year after year while I hated and detested you and screamed in your ears to get away from me, but you wouldn't let me go.

For a moment, after years of scamping, she felt the dread power of wifehood; they were locked in each other's grasp till the end—the end, a mouthful of sunless muckworms and grass roots stifling his blare of trumpets and her blasphemies against love.

I bet I live till ninety, with all my aches and pains. To think that's fifty more years of the Great I-Am. No wonder I want to make away with myself. Who wouldn't?

God, what we women have to put up with; and I'm not even allowed to complain.