Quotes About Struggle

They, whether steel kings or Bonapartes, cannot, after a certain age, endure solitude. For it is the solitude, even though strictly relative in the majority of cases, that kills them, or sends them on the road to Waterloo.

I felt shocked and then saddened. life does this to you sometimes - leads you up a path and then drops you in the shit, to mix a metaphor.

They knew they were pilgrims.

When this calamity fell among the passengers who were to be left here to settle, they were hurried ashore and made to drink water, so that the sailors might have the more beer and when one sufferer in his sickness desired but a small can of beer, it was answered that if he were their own father he should have none. Then the disease began to seize the sailors also, so that almost half of the crew died

twice. "On the ninth day the

Depression—feelings of being down, flat, dead; feelings of hopelessness; being tired all the time. Like sadness and anger, depression is hard to be around. You can't make it go away, however. People need to go through it, not around it.

you enter a state of affairs in which neither the old ways nor the new ways work satisfactorily. People are caught between the demands of conflicting systems and end up immobilized

It's not that [writers] are pompous jerks. We are insecure. We feel like we're fading away in this vast sea of scriveners.

She loved Harry and so, when he disappeared, when he withdrew into vagueness and alcohol, she had despised him passionately.

That toil of growing up;The ignominy of boyhood; the distressOf boyhood changing into man;The unfinished man and his pain.

Now that my ladder's gone,I must lie down where all the ladders start,In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart.

Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.

That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.

I have known more men destroyed by the desire to have wife and child and to keep them in comfort than I have seen destroyed by drink and harlots.

Was it for this the wild geese spreadThe gray wing upon every tide;For this that all that blood was shed,For this Edward Fitzgerald died,And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,All that delirium of the brave?Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,It's with O'Leary in the grave.

Hands, do what you're bid:Bring the balloon of the mindThat bellies and drags in the windInto its narrow shed.

Out of Ireland have we come, great hatred, little room, maimed us at the start. I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic heart.

Come let us mock at the greatThat had such burdens on the mindAnd toiled so hard and lateTo leave some monument behind,Nor thought of the leveling wind.

An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.

The fascination of what's difficultHas dried the sap out of my veins, and rentSpontaneous joy and natural contentOut of my heart.

To be born woman is to know - although they do not speak of it at school - women must labor to be beautiful.

It's certain there is no fine thing Since Adam's fall but needs much laboring.

Turning and turning in the widening gyreThe falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhereThe ceremony of innocence is drowned;The best lack all conviction, while the worstAre full of passionate intensity.

Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.