Quotes About Struggle

Capii che gli ubriachi e gli storpi vengono trascinati fuori dall'arena come Cristi disossati, un uomo sotto ogni braccio, coi piedi che strisciano a terra, gli occhi al cielo.

mein kinder. Mein kinder, well it sort of means my family. He eyeballs me right square in the eye and says it's about how to reach down into parts of yourself you didn't know were there and get down in there and live inside these parts. And the only way to get to them: sacrifice. Suffer. Deny. What are you willing to give.

these darkest mornings start days that Orin can't even bring himself for hours to think about how he'll get through the day. These worst mornings with cold floors and hot windows and merciless light—the soul's certainty that the day will have to be not traversed but sort of climbed, vertically, and then that going to sleep again at the end of it will be like falling, again, off something tall and sheer.

That you can all of a sudden out of nowhere want to get high with your Substance so bad that you think you will surely die if you don't, and but can just sit there with your hands writhing in your lap and face wet with craving, can want to get high but instead just sit there, wanting to but not, if that makes sense, and if you can gut it out and not hit the Substance during the craving the craving will eventually pass, it will go away

351. As in a combination of the First and Twelfth Steps, goes the AA joke: 'My Life is Unmanageable and I'd Like to Share it With You.

I tossici non hanno relazioni, prendono ostaggi

David Foster Wallace

Gately's never had sex sober yet, or danced, or held somebody's hand except to say the Our Father in a big circle.

Here is how to take nonnarcotic muscle relaxants for the back spasms that come from thousands of serves to no one. Here is how to weep in bed trying to remember when your torn blue ankle didn't hurt every minute. This is the whirlpool, a friend.

It is at once too noisy and too quiet to do any real work, and I have no ideas that do not seem to me shallow and overwrought.

No wonder they cannot appreciate the really central Kafka joke: that the horrific struggle to establish a human self results in a self whose humanity is inseparable from that horrific struggle. That our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home.

That you can all of a sudden out of nowhere want to get high with your Substance so bad that you think you will surely die if you don't, and but can just sit there with your hands writhing in your lap and face wet with craving, can want to get high but instead just sit there, wanting to but not, if that makes sense, and if you can gut it out and not hit the Substance during the craving the craving will eventually pass, it will go away — at least for a while.

I have dickered over trinkets with malnourished children. I have learned what it is to become afraid of one's own cabin toilet. I have now heard—and am powerless to describe—reggae elevator music.

You are so crushed and revolted. You become a lesbian

El odio que se siente por el trabajo al final del día no es más que una parte del trabajo

It's probably hard to feel any sort of Romantic spiritual connection to nature when you have to make your living from it.

Die Integrität meines Schlafs ist für alle Zeit kompromittiert, Sir.

All the good things on this earth are trophy cups. The strong win them. The weak lose them. from a speech by the Nazi Minister of Education

When you're going through hard times and God seems distant, apologetics can help you to remember that our faith is not based on emotions, but on the truth, and therefore you must hold on to it.

Oh, Christ, why do you have to grow up into a life like this one? Why do you ever have to want women, want power, make money, make love, keep up a front, sell the act, suck around some booking agent, get gypped on the check—?

A volte ho l'impressione che se davvero ho un talento non è di natura letteraria. Il mio è piuttosto un talento per la pura e semplice sopravvivenza. Sono sopravvissuto a tre matrimoni naufragati, alla perdita dei figli, alla guerra, alla tubercolosi, al marxismo, all'alcolismo, alla nevrosi e ad anni di scrittura da freelance. Sono troppo cocciuto e miserabile perché mi si possa far fuori, mi sa». - W.L.Gresham

I can endure poverty but not shame-neglect but not insult,and insult from you..

What tortures have men to endure, comparable to those daily repeated shafts of scorn and cruelty with which poor women are riddled by the tyrants of their sex?

Which, I wonder, brother reader, is the better lot, to die prosperous and famous, or poor and disappointed? To have, and to be forced to yield; or to sink out of life, having played and lost the game? That must be a strange feeling, when a day of our life comes and we say, 'Tomorrow, success or failure won't matter much: and the sun will rise, and all the myriads of mankind go to their work or their pleasure as usual, but I shall be out of the turmoil.