Quotes About Struggle

Sometimes it felt like all the people in her life were scavengers, pecking viciously away at her flesh, wanting more, more, more.

There were moments when she thought she might survive. And there were other moments when she would catch herself thinking about her life as if it was a party she couldn't wait to leave.

It's hard to want something so badly and give it your all and then not get it. There's this idea that all you need to do is believe in yourself,

I never believed it. That day in the Port-a-loo, while the world's largest lemon meringue pie baked, I was convinced I was having my last miscarriage. But then the bleeding stopped. It was just "spotting," as the medical world cheerily calls it. A spot of rain. A spot of bother. But even when the spotting finally stopped, I didn't believe I was having a baby.

life would go back to being unendurable, except-and this was the worst part-she would in fact endure it, it wouldn't kill her, she'd keep on living day after day after day, an endless loop of glorious sunrises and sunsets that Janie never got to see.

I'm having a nervous breakdown, she thought with relief. I'm about to lose my mind, and that's just as well, because this cannot possibly be fixed. It is simply not fixable.

Sometimes it was exhilaratingly easy to be happy again. Other times they found that they did have to "try".

Eso es: soy un albaricoque reseco, doctor Hodges. No un albaricoque tierno, suave y sabroso, sino un albaricoque mustio, duro e insípido, que te parte un diente cuando le das un bocado.

The thought of separating from Jessica was like having his guts ripped out, but these days being married to Jessica was like having his guts ripped out. Whatever way you looked at it: guts ripped out.

Every morning I worry that somebody I know will be killed in a terrorist attack that day. That means the terrorists have won, Ben tells me. He doesn't understand that I'm fighting off the terrorists by worrying about them. It's my own personal War on Terror.

It was strange how he'd always made her feel like they were winning as a couple, even when they were breaking up.

Full-time work caused a kind of claustrophobic terror to build and build within her chest until one day there was a humiliating emotional spillage that resulted in her termination or resignation

Each obligation on its own seemed laughably easy. It was the sheer volume that threatened to bury her.

worse. She wanted to

I took so long coming to the door. I had no idea crutches were so damned tricky. I imagined myself swinging jauntily along, but they dig into your armpits like I don't know what.

Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. That's right, she thinks. We should all be raging and raving and brandishing our walking sticks: We don't want to go! And by the way, we want our legs and arms and backs to stop HURTING!! She will ask Thomas to find the rest of that poem on the Internet for her.

This is how you lived with a terrible secret. You just did it. You pretend everything was fine. You ingored the deep, cramplike pain in your stomach. You somehow anesthetized yourself so that nothing felt that bad, but nothing felt good either.

control here, Rachel, with all the –' She gestured sorrowfully at the paperwork, of which she knew nothing.

I don't know why I stay. I don't know why I deserve this. I don't know why you do this, why we do this, why this keeps happening.

But I was going to see a psychiatrist. I was going to tell him. I just never got around to it, and then I just kept thinking I could fix it myself.

Sometimes it felt like Zoe was just waiting out her life now, enduring it, ticking off events and days and months and years, as if she just had to get herself through something unspecified and then things would be better, except she never got through it and it never got better and she would never forgive him. His death was the ultimate 'fuck you'.

My mother was a drunk. That's all I have to say about her." "Mother issues," said Felicity, when Tess repeated this conversation. "Run a mile.

She combines them all into one giant sumo wrestler of humanity and punches him again and again in his big flabby stomach.

Would there be that subtle one-upmanship like there was between mothers? "It's so stressful having a gifted child." What would be the equivalent for a prison wife? "It's such a strain when your husband is a model prisoner! The others are constantly beating him up!