Quotes About Struggle

The higher They Climb, The Harder They Fall " - Cole's Pa

That was how she'd once viewed her perfect life: as a series of bad smells and unfulfilled duties, petty worries and late bills.

All men are weak," Phin said. "That's the whole bloody trouble with the world. Too weak to love properly. Too weak to be wrong.

The concept of a troubled, lonely, middle-class, gay fifty-eight-year-old living alone in dusty squalor in a chocolate-box cottage in the heart of the Cotswolds was a hard one to grasp in the context of his sweaty, noisy, hectic, foreign, red-light existence.

She felt like a creature born to reside on the bottom of the ocean floor, dark and flat and half-blind, slowly rising through the icy water to the glittering light above.

For days and days on end they could act like everything was normal, like they were on a lovely little adventure together. And then the reality of their situation would crash through the façade and they'd emerge like a straggle of pile-up survivors crawling from the wreckage.

My father's going to take everything you own and then break your life.

Hanna. Her middle child. The difficult one. The tiring one. The one she wouldn't want to be stranded on a desert island with. And a terrible thought shot through her, so fast she barely registered it. 'It should be you missing and Ellie eating beans on toast.

Dad. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I want to kill myself. The thought of you, seeing that. It makes me want to kill myself.

Same reason she didn't tell you how hard she found it, being the spare part in your great dynasty. She obviously didn't feel like she could talk to you.

The baby is starting to grumble. Kim sits still in her chair and holds her breath. It's taken her all night to get him to sleep. It's Friday, a sultry midsummer night, and normally she'd be out with friends at this time.

I feel – Jesus. I feel like I don't know you, Rachel. I feel like I married a fucking stranger.

phone calls to make. Terrible phone calls.

You. You and your fucking "tie me up" bullshit. You and your other guys. Guys who've done that to you. Every time I shut my eyes, there they are. Lined up. And I can't, I cannot get them out of my head, Rachel. You put them there. Bunch of fucking creeps.

I listened to your podcast this summer. Basic bitch? Really? I've been under attack all my life, Alix. All my life. And now from you too.

Forty-two is a strange age. Neither young nor old. If I were straight, I suppose I'd be frantically flailing around right now trying to find a last-minute wife with functioning ovaries. As it is, I am not straight, and neither am I the sort of man that other men wish to form lengthy and meaningful relationships with, so that leaves me in the worst possible position—an unlovable gay man with fading looks.

This time next year the skinny wife would be living in some shit flat somewhere because it would be all she could afford, and his kids would have to shuttle back and forth between two shit flats and sit making awkward conversation with Alicia, and looking after their mum because her heart would be broken and she wouldn't be the mum they knew anymore, she'd be a new mum, and their childhoods would be shattered and changed. And

Rejection was a fact of life. It wasn't a nice fact of life. But it was a fact.

It's the money thing,' he said after a short, murky moment of post-coital silence. 'It's … I'm not used to this. I'm not used to being poor. I'm not used to having to take money from the woman I love. I'm just … I'm emasculated, Rachel. I'm fucking emasculated.

And you – you get to swan off every day to your precious little studio, and make your pretty little necklaces with your lovely daddy at the end of the fucking line ready to bail you out every time you go into the red and your lovely little mortgage-free apartment and – and your youth and you have no idea, you literally have no idea about anything, Rachel. You're a fucking child.' Michael ripped the duvet away from himself and stalked to the bathroom.

Is it any wonder that Alix is so torn about her marriage, when her husband is capable of such acts of generosity and affection, whilst also capable of making her want to die?

The blackness faded over the years, but it never went away. Sometimes a good day might feel grey. But nothing ever felt white. Not ever.

I'm not the most together person in the world and it doesn't take much to make all the wheels fall off.

And I'm so sorry that I am such a loser. That I make such shit choices all the time, that I am fucking thirty-three and I don't own anything and that you have to keep propping me up and bailing me out and that I can't even make a marriage last for longer than two months.' She sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks. 'And I'm sorry that I'm all you've got. You deserve better than me, Dad, you really, really do. I'm so sorry.