Quotes About Struggle

But right on the heels of that feeling, that suspicion that all is not yet lost, comes the urge to tell my mother, tell her that I am okay today, that I have felt something close to happiness, that I might still be capable of feeling happy. She will want to know that. But I can't tell her. That's the wall I always slam into on a good morning like this. My mother will be worrying about me, and I can't tell her that I'm okay.

Both Fen & Helen needed me to choose, to be their one & only when I didn't want a one & only. I loved that Amy Lowell poem when I first read it, how her lover was like red wine at the beginning and then became bread. But that has not happened to me. My loves remain wine to me, yet I become too quickly bread to them.

I think back on all the rooms in all the cities and towns where I wrote the pieces of this book, all the doubt and days of failure but also that knot of stubbornness that's still inside me.

All I want is to write fiction. I am a drain on the system, dragging around my debts and dreams.

You don't struggle with these questions?" "No. But I've always thought my opinion was the right one. It's a small flaw I have." "An American flaw.

Soon Paula would begin complaining that he didn't understand her, didn't appreciate her, didn't love her enough, when in fact he loved her so much his heart often felt shredded by it. But people always wanted words for all that roiled inside you.

I don't know how everyone else is getting by, paying their bills, and sleeping through the night.

All these pulls on me that cancel one another out like an algebraic equation I can't solve.

I try to write something new. It's bad and I stop after a few sentences. Even though I didn't feel it at the time, I got into a rhythm with the old novel. I knew those characters and how to write them. I heard their voices and I saw their gestures and anything else feels fake and stiff. I ache for them, people I also once felt were stiff and fake, but who now seem like the only people I could ever write about.

My mom was a real person. I am not a real person. She had convictions and took action. She has purpose and belief. She helped others. I help no one. She helped found that donation organization. I couldn't even write one thank-you letter for a refrigerator. All I want is to write fiction. I am a drain on the system, dragging around my debts and dreams. It's all I've wanted. And now I'm not even able to do that.

I couldn't sleep beside him. It was too strong. I wanted him too much. It never went away. (32)

I hate Boston. Nothing but pain in Boston.

Jag skriver inte för att jag tror att jag har något att säga. Jag skriver för att om jag inte gör det känns allt bara värre [karaktärens ord]

Gatan och husen med sina stora tomter blir alldeles suddiga. "Han bara sprängde mig i bitar. Jag vet inte ens var jag ska få tag i bultarna och skruvarna. Jag trodde alltid om det någon gång skulle bli så att jag inte höll tillbaka någonting utan blottade mitt hjärta ..." Resten lyckas jag bara få ur mig i form av ett kvidande. "Vilket jag gjorde. Jag gjorde det den här gången och det var ändå inte nog.

My parents were married twenty-three years and never made it look appealing.

nothing. Some of the women are still wading

Between our call and today he talked himself out of me, and now he is coming back around. I squat there and think about how you get trained early on as a woman to perceive how others are perceiving you, at the great expense of what you yourself are feeling about them. Sometimes you mix the two up in a terrible tangle that's hard to unravel.

We all lose our cammin." "It's so physical. It feels like my body is rejecting me". Pg 275.

No escribo porque tenga algo que contar. Escribo porque si no lo hago, todo empeora mucho más.

You don't realize how much effort you've put into covering things up until you try to dig them out.

I don't have a Crested Butte.' 'You have something.' 'It's more like an abyss.' 'Something you need to get to.' 'Yeah. The rest of my life. IT feels like the way is blocked.

I will lay me down for to bleed awhile, the ballad went on in my head. Then I'll rise and fight with you again.

Reality is the crutch for people who can't cope with drugs.

Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse.