Quotes About Struggle

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

Making a famine where abundance lies,   Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:

I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick, Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury Do I take part.

Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right; we would and we would not.

The raging rocks And shivering shocks Shall break the locks        Of prison gates: And Phibbus' car Shall shine from far, And make and mar        The foolish Fates.

Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then let fall Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man: But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!

Our son shall win. QUEEN-He is fat and scant of breath. Here Hamlet, Wipe thy brow.

That, like an eagle in a dovecote, I Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles.

I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours...

Poor soul, the center of my sinful Earth.

Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven! Wind, rain, and thunder, remember earthly man Is but a substance that must yield to you.

They that stand high have many blasts to shake 275 them, 276 And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

Out of this wood do not desire to go; Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no.

Rouse him:—make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation

One woe doth tread upon another's heel. So fast they follow.

All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem (25) To have thee crowned withal.

think our country sinks beneath the yoke. It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I

Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it

O, that the gods Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, Though they did change me to the meanest bird That flies i' the purer air!

some good I mean to do, Despite of mine own nature.

The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his master.

Woe doth the heavier sit where it perceives it is but faintly borne.

Não podeis ministrar algum remédio A um espírito enfermo, e da memória Arrancar-lhe uma dor enraizada, Apagar-lhe os escrúpulos gravados Na alma? Não conheceis algum nepente Capaz de lhe extirpar a um peito inquieto A matéria que pesa insuportável No coração?