Quotes About Struggle

If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.

It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.

People demand freedom only when they have no power.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall

Victories that are cheap are cheap. Those only are worth having which come as the result of hard fighting.

A church debt is the devil's salary.

There are materials enough in every man's mind to make a hell there.

If anyone, then, asks me the meaning of our flag, I say to him - it means just what Concord and Lexington meant; what Bunker Hill meant; which was, in short, the rising up of a valiant young people against an old tyranny to establish the most momentous doctrine that the world had ever known - the right of men to their own selves and to their liberties.

All men are tempted. There is no man that lives that can't be broken down, provided it is the right temptation, put in the right spot.

You have come into a hard world. I know of only one easy place in it, and that is the grave.

Man is a spirit, and spiritual things are not foreign and strange to him, but he runs away from his own light, he darkens his own windows, he denies himself that he may deny God, he scoffs at what he really fears and knows to be sacred and true. He tries to believe in the world and its ways and to sell himself for its pottage.

The whole of the Universe is run by God, which is one vast Imagination, struggling against the almost irresistible brute forces of the cosmos.

Cheer up, Zip," Frankie said to me, as we sat down at our table in the lunchroom. "So, you're not a speller. Big deal." "I'm also not an adder or a subtracter or a reader or a writer," I said. "Let's face it, Frankie. I'm a school flop.

Numai moartea e o for?? la fel de absolut?, dar în lupta de veacuri dintre aceste dou? puteri, dragostea este cea care ia moartea de gât, îi pune genunchiul în piept, o bate ziua È™i noaptea, o învinge în fiecare prim?var?, o urm?reÈ™te pas cu pas È™i-n fiecare groap? pe care aceasta o sap?, dragostea arunc? s?mânÈ›a unei vieÈ›i noi.

How utterly unprofitable my life is! These continual searchings of my mind are leading me into the desert.

The world has robbed me of my love, time has dried up hatred, and as the living individual must feel something, I live upon what remains to me. I must also say that he who feels and lives thus does not get a surfeit of happiness.

Thoughts like mine are not reckoned among the delights of life. It is like the dog trying to catch his tail; he does not catch anything. I do not prove anything, only tire myself; but have the satisfaction that another day has passed, or another night gone by. I

It is impossible that all men have been doomed to suffer this awful horror!

She was in that highly-wrought state when the reasoning powers act with great rapidity: the state a man is in before a battle or a struggle, in danger, and at the decisive moments of life - those moments when a man shows once and for all what he is worth, that his past was not lived in vain but was a preparation for these moments.

Society in itself is no great harm, but unsatisfied social aspirations are a bad and ugly business. We must certainly accept, and we will.

It was as if the main screw in his head, which held his whole life together, had become stripped. The screw would not go in, would not come out, but turned in the same groove without catching hold, and it was impossible to stop turning it.

Darkness had fallen upon everything for him; but just because of this darkness he felt that the one guiding clue in the darkness was his work, and he clutched it and clung to it with all his strength.

It occurred to him that his scarcely perceptible attempts to struggle against what was considered good by the most highly placed people, those scarcely noticeable impulses which he had immediately suppressed, might have been the real thing, and all the rest false.

Are we not all flung into the world for no other purpose than to hate each other, and so to torture ourselves and one another?