Quotes About Struggle

Maybe, he pondered as he ascended the stairs, that's my problem with Kathy. I can't remember our combined past: can't recall the days when we voluntarily lived with each other... now it's become an involuntary arrangement, derived God knows how from the past.

It was a brilliant idea and the only idea that could have worked. Up above, on the ruined, blasted surface of what had once been a living planet, the leady crawled and scurried, and fought Man's war. And undersurface, in the depths of the planet, human beings toiled endlessly to produce the weapons to continue the fight, month by month, year by year.

He himself had had a psychotic interlude, in his early twenties. It was common. It was natural. And, he had to admit, it was horrible. It made the fixed, rigid, compulsive-neurotic Public School seem a reference point by which one could gratefully steer one's course back to mankind and shared reality. It made him comprehend why a neurosis was a deliberate artifact, deliberately constructed by the ailing individual or by a society in crisis. It was an invention arising from necessity.

If you'll remember, helping people was one of the two basic things Fat has been told long ago to give up; helping people and taking dope. He had stopped taking dope, but all his energy and enthusiasm were now totally channeled into saving people. Better he had kept on with the dope.

But a mood like that," Rick said, "you're apt to stay in it, not dial your way out. Despair like that, about total reality, is self-perpetuating.

No one can win against kipple," he said, "except temporarily and maybe in one spot, like in my apartment I've sort of created a stasis between the pressure of kipple and nonkipple, for the time being. But eventually I'll die or go away, and then the kipple will again take over. It's a universal principle operating throughout the universe; the entire universe is moving toward a final state of total, absolute kippleization.

It was like, he had once thought, a little plastic boat that would sail on forever, without incident, until it finally sank, which would be a secret relief to all.

Der Geist eines Junkies ist wie die Musik, die du aus dem Radiowecker hörst - manchmal klingt sie ja ganz hübsch, aber sie ist nur dazu da, dich zu etwas Bestimmtem zu veranlassen. Die Musik aus dem Radiowecker soll dich aufwecken; die Musik des Junkies soll dich in ein Werkzeug zur Beschaffung von immer mehr Stoff verwandeln.

Outside, a bug on tall legs picked through the heaps. It ate, and then something squashed it and went on, leaving it squashed with its dead teeth sunk into what it had wanted to eat. Finally its dead teeth got up and crawled out of its mouth in different directions.

drive the wild Bleekmen from their last

There should be a monument somewhere, he thought, listing those who died in this. And, worse, those who didn't die. Who had to live on past death.

Not an encouraging thought. Whatever thing, object, or event had at any time in her fifty-odd years stirred the smooth surface of her vapid enjoyment was gently eased out of existence. He could guess a few. Garbage men who rattled cans. Door-to-door salesmen. Bills and tax forms of all kinds. Crying babies (perhaps all babies). Drunks. Filth. Poverty. Suffering in general. It was a wonder anything was left.

En la vida real- pensaba Rick-, no hay campanillas mágicas como ésas para hacer que el enemigo desaparezxa sin el menor esfuerzo. una lástima.

The difference between Gloria Knudson and Sherri was obvious; Gloria wanted to die for strictly imaginary reasons. Sherri would literally die whether she wanted to or not. Gloria had the option to cease playing her malignant death-game any time she psychologically wished, but Sherri did not.

We are, Adams realized, a cursed race. Genesis is right; there is a stigma on us, a mark. Because only a cursed, marked, flawed species would use its discoveries as we are using them.

Our minds are occluded, deliberately, so that we can't see the prison world we're slaves in, which is created by a powerful magician-like evil deity, who, however, is opposed by a mysterious salvific entity which often takes trash forms, and who will restore our lost memories. This entity may even be an old wino.

McFeyffe, Hamilton said, you're going to have to forgive me. Why? Because I'm going to do something fruitless and futile. Because, even though I realize it's useless, I'm going to kick the living Jesus out of you.

This can't be normal death, he said to himself. This is unnatural; the regular momentum of dissolution has been replaced by another factor imposed upon it, a pressure arbitrary and forced.

Already Sam Regan could feel the power of the drug wearing off; he felt weak and afraid and bitterly sickened at the realization. So goddamn soon, he said to himself. All over; back to the hovel, to the pit in which we twist and cringe like worms in a paper bag, huddled away from the daylight.

Mankind's lot, Cartwright observed, hadn't changed much, of late. The Classification system, the elaborate Quizzes, hadn't done most people any good. The unks, the unclassified, remained.

I resemble that worm which crawls through dust, Lives in the dust, eats dust Until a passerby's foot crushes it.

O pior aspecto do suicídio é que você decide fazer isso e não dá para desistir e mudar de ideia. Como essas pessoas que tentam se matar com o escapamento do carro e viram um vegetal. Alguém as tira de lá e as salva, mas elas destruíram todos os neurônios por causa do monóxido de carbono.

Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? That's what it is to be a slave.

Anyone that's fighting the Police is on our side.