Quotes About Struggle

The purpose of man is like the purpose of a pollywog - to wiggle along as far as he can without dying; or, to hang to life until death takes him.

When you look at where the real problems are among minorities in our society, particularly blacks, it's at the bottom. It's the people who are in school systems that don't educate, neighborhoods where there is a lot of crime, drugs, the whole bit.

Yo, poeta de oficio, condenada tantas veces

Qué buscas? preguntó. No sabría decirlo susurré: el perdón la mandala ese perdón que es mío y no puedo otorgarme que camina conmigo y no viene de fuera ese perdón arisco que retumba en mis sienes que me oprime y hace brotar las lágrimas que lavan.

Oh, living is so uncomfortable. Everything presses in: the body demands, the spirit never ceases, living is like being weary but being unable to sleep–living is upsetting. You can't walk around naked, either in body or in spirit.

She was incompetent. Incompetent for life. She had never figured out how to figure things out. She was only vaguely beginning to know the kind of absence she had of herself inside her.

Escrevo por não ter nada a fazer no mundo: sobrei e não há lugar para mim na terra dos homens. Escrevo porque sou um desesperado e estou cansado, não suporto mais a rotina de me ser e se não fosse a sempre novidade que é escrever, eu me morreria simbolicamente todos os dias. (A hora da estrela)

She had no idea how to cope with life and she was only vaguely aware of her own inner emptiness. Were she capable of explaining herself, she might well confide: the world stands outside me. I stand outside myself.

I will surpass myself in waves, ah, Lord, and may everything come and fall upon me, even the incomprehension of myself at certain white moments because all I have to do is comply with myself and then nothing will block my path until death-without-fear, from any struggle or rest I will rise up as strong and beautiful as a young horse.

Obsessed with the desire to be happy I lost my life. I moved with the tension of a bow and arrow in an unreality of desires.

How living hurt. Living was an open wound.

I know that what I am feeling is serious and has the power to destroy me.

I am finding myself: it's deadly because only death concludes me. But I bear it until the end. I'll tell you a secret: life is deadly. I'll have to interrupt everything to tell you this: death is the impossible and intangible. Death is just future to such an extent that there are those who cannot bear it and commit suicide. It's as life said the following: and there simply was no following.

What I really do when I write you is follow myself, and I'm doing it right now: I'm following myself without knowing what it will lead me to. Sometimes following myself is so hard. Because of following something that's still so nebulous. Sometimes I end up stopping.

And one of the things I learned is that one should live in spite of. Although, one should eat. Although, one should love. Although, it must die. Even it is often the same even though it pushes us forward. It was despite the fact that it gave me an unhappy anguish that was the creator of my own life.

Tal vez la norestina ya hubiese llegado a la conclusión de que la vida incomoda bastante, el alma no cabe bien en el cuerpo, aun un alma pobre como la suya.

Es como unas ganas de respirar fuerte, y también el miedo

Pero cada vez la odiaba más porque no podía amarla

Criava as mais falsas dificuldades para aquela coisa clandestina que era a felicidade. A felicidade sempre iria ser clandestina para mim. Parece que eu já pressentia.

She herself asked for nothing, but her sex made its demands like a sunflower germinating in a tomb.

But after much thought, I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing more difficult in this world than to surrender completely. This is one of man's greatest sorrows.

No, no es fácil escribir. Es duro como partir rocas. Pero saltan chispas y astillas como aceros pulidos.

Que la vida es así: se pulsa un botón y la vida se enciende. Sólo que ella no sabía cuál era el botón que había que pulsar. Ni se daba cuenta de que vivía en una sociedad tecnificada donde ella era un tornillo prescindible.

she was inept. Inept for living. She had no idea how to cope with life and she was only vaguely aware of her own inner emptiness. Were she capable of explaining herself, she might well confide: the world stands outside me. I stand outside myself.