Quotes About Struggle

You can't ever guess at life, at pain. All pain is real, and all pain is personal. It's the most personal thing we have. It eats each of us differently.

I had the sensation that I might always be running like this, that I would always have to run, and that I would always be able to run.

Morning comes like a scream through a pinhole.

My head was a condemned church with a ceiling of bats, but I swung from this dark mood to euphoria when I thought about leaving.

I have had friends who I decided were not good friends, were people who brought more trouble than happiness, and thus I have found ways to create more distance between us. Now I have the same thoughts about God, my faith, that I had for these friends. God is in my life but I do not depend on him. My God is not a reliable God.

I am too fucking fragile. I hate being fragile.

I know forever they will be in my house, the rooms of my mind, I know this and I have accepted this but while I know they will be there I want them dead there. I cannot have them breathing there! I want them in the floirboards of the basement of my soul.

I have no idea how people function without near-constant internal chaos. I'd lose my mind.

She was done, gone. She had been comfortable, and comfort is the death of the soul, which is by nature searching, insistent, unsatisfied. This dissatisfaction drives the soul to leave, to get lost, to be lost, to struggle and adapt. And adaptation is growth, and growth is life. A human's choice is either to see new things, mountains, waterfalls, deadly storms and seas and volcanoes, or to see the same man-made things endlessly reconfigured.

You still know that boy. He was very angry at fourteen, fifteen, in summer and winter, at home or in the world. So angry that his face contorted in photos. The camera was a question and his face did not know the answer.

God who protects my people I call upon you to send away the murahaleen. Protect me God protect my family as they run. Oh God of the sky, keep me safe tonight. Keep me hidden, keep me quiet. Oh God of rain, let me find water. Let me not die of thirst. Oh God of the soul, why are you doing this? I have done nothing to ask for this. I'm a boy. I'm a boy. Would you send this to a lamb? You have no right.

How lame this is, how small, terrible. Or maybe it is beautiful. I can't decide if what I am doing is beautiful and noble and right, or small and disgusting.

That only having left could she and her children achieve something like sublimity, that without movement there is no struggle, and without struggle there is no purpose, and without purpose there is nothing at all. She wanted to tell every mother, every father: There is meaning in motion.

There would be a time when the world created people stronger than them. When all of this got worked out. But until then there would be women and men like Hanne and Alan, who were imperfect and had no path toward perfection.

The men who are dropped in a jungle or a desert and expected video games and got mundanity and depravity and friends dying like animals.

Historically, Yemen, when not being invaded or colonized by outside powers, from the Ottomans to the British, was fighting itself.

To struggle is to strengthen my faith, my hope and my belief in humanity.

This book is a form of struggle, and it keeps my spirit alive to struggle.

and because total non-communication in a place like the Circle was so difficult, it felt like violence.

We gravitate toward comfort, Josie thought, but it must be rationed. Give us one-third comfort and two-thirds chaos—that is balance.

But something about his inability to give in, to admit defeat, or to at least acknowledge the incredible power of the technology at Mae's command Ã¢â'¬Â¦ she knew she couldn't give up until she had received some sense of his acquiescence.

Porque soy imbécil y porque recibí demasiadas lecciones de hombres y mujeres buenos provistos de rígidos códigos morales, hallo mis fuerzas en la afirmación de lo que es correcto. Esto pocas veces me ha servido de nada en situaciones como esta.

Outside the walls of the Circle, all was noise and struggle, failure and filth. But here, all had been perfected. The best people had made the best systems and the best systems had reaped funds, unlimited funds, that made possible this, the best place to work. And it was natural that it was so, Mae thought. Who else but utopians could make utopia?

I thought we were all the same but as I was inside my dead body and looking into the murky river bottom I knew that some are wanting to run and some are afraid to run and maybe they are broken and are angry for it.