Quotes About Struggle

My mystery is simple: I don't know how to be alive. - Because you only know, or only knew, how to be alive through pain.

What an effort I make to be myself. I struggle against a tide in a boat with just enough room for my two feet in a perilous and fragile balance.

Though I sometimes scream: I no longer want to be I! but I stick to myself and inextricably there forms a tessitura of life.

But I've never known what to do with people and the things I like, sometimes they weigh me down, ever since I was a girl.

A feiura é o meu estandarte de guerra. Eu amo o feio com um amor de igual para igual.

Today I woke up feeling such nostalgia for happiness. My whole life I've never been free. I always persecuted myself within me. I've became intolerable to myself. I live in the dilacerating duality. I have an apparent freedom but I am imprisoned inside me.

Talvez a nordestina já tivesse chegado à conclusão de que a vida incomoda bastante, alma que não cabe bem no corpo, mesmo alma rala como a sua.

que os mortos me ajudem a suportar o quase insuportável, já que de nada me valem os vivos.

Nada existe de mais difícil do que entregar-se ao instante. Esta dificuldade é dor humana.

Is woede mijn diepste verzet tegen het mens-zijn? Mens-zijn mat me af. En ik ben woedend om het voelen van zoveel liefde. Soms leef ik van de woede tegen het leven. Want de woede wekt me tot leven: ik heb me nooit zo waakzaam gevoeld. Ik weet best dat dit overgaat en dat het noodzakelijke ontberen terugkeert.

desde la niñez no fue más que un corazón solitario que latía con dificultad en el espacio.

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.

quero não o que está feito mas o que tortuosamente ainda se faz. Minhas desequilibradas palavras são o luxo de meu silêncio.

O mecanismo exige e exige a minha vida. Mas eu não obedeço totalmente: se te nho que ser um objeto, que seja um objeto que grita.

Though everything is so fragile. I feel so lost. I live off a secret that glows in luminous rays that would darken me if I didn't cover them with a heavy cloak of false certainties. May the God help me: I am without a guide and it is dark once again.

Twelve years weigh on a person like pounds of lead. The days melt into one another, merge to form one whole block, a big anchor. And the person is lost.

Around the shadow is a heat of abundant sweat. I'm alive.» I'm alive. But I feel that I have yet to reach my limits, borders with what? ... And madly I take control of the recesses of myself, my ravings suffocate me with so much beauty. I am before, I am almost, I am never. And all of this I won when I stopped loving you. I write to you as an exercise in sketching before painting. I see words.

Escribo porque no tengo nada que hacer en el mundo: estoy de sobra y no hay lugar para mí en la tierra de los hombres. Escribo por mi desesperación y mi cansancio, ya no soporto la rutina de ser yo, y si no existiese la novedad continua que es escribir, me moriría simbólicamente todos los días.

Feit is dat ik een levenslot in handen heb en me toch niet bij machte voel om vrijuit te scheppen: ik volg de verborgen lijn van het noodlot. Ik kan niet anders dan een waarheid zoeken die me te boven gaat.

Liberdade? É meu último refúgio, forcei-me à liberdade e aguento-a não como um dom mas com heroísmo: sou heroicamente livre.

I ask: was every story ever written in the world a story of affliction?

Nothing is more difficult than surrendering to the instant. That difficulty is human pain. It is ours. I surrender in words and surrender when I paint.

What trips up my life is writing.

Yes, she was happy inside her neurosis. War neurosis.