Quotes About Struggle

It is no good casting out devils. They belong to us, we must accept them and be at peace with them.

Literature is a toil and a snare, a curse that bites deep.

The world of men is dreaming, it has gone mad in its sleep, and a snake is strangling it, but it can't wake up.

God knows I tried my best to learn the ways of this world, even had inklings we could be glorious; but after all that's happened, the inkles ain't easy anymore. I mean - what kind of fucken life is this?

She said Mom closed up the house one day, turned the oven on full, and sat by its open door. Apparently it's still a Cry For Help, even though our oven's electric.

Malcolm opened the door of the little shed and busied himself lighting the stove. He used the stove to warm the shed so that he could bring the lambs in and warm them. Most hill lambs are hardy and need little care, but some of them, when they arrive in a cold wet world, decide it is not worth the struggle. It was Malcolm's job to coax them to live and usually he succeeded.

War is horrible," I said, trying to damp her down. "If you had lived through the war you wouldn't think it glorious. War is just agony. It's living under a dark cloud all the time and wondering if someone you love has been killed.

There is a little silence which I dare not break, and then my hostess continues, more as if she were speaking to herself than to me, 'It's a queer thing how your life can fall to pieces about your head in a few minutes. It happened to me like that – at one moment I was a happy wife, loved and cosseted, without a care in the world, and five minutes later I was – alone

Tim admires everything he sees and waxes more and more enthusiastic as we proceed from room to room. I become more and more depressed at the prospect of trying to keep the place moderately clean with two maids.

The troubles of our proud and angry dust Are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

All war is awful," says Guthrie. "It's a wrong and horrible thing, war is, but we don't need to worry about the rights and wrongs of war. We tried our best for peace. We tried for peace to the absolute limit of honour . . . but you can't have peace when a pack of ravening wolves gets loose . . . Let's talk about Avielochan.

Offer him Ardfalloch for three months,' said Mr. Simpson. 'You need the money.' I told him I did not want to let Ardfalloch. 'You will sell a farm then,' he told me. 'Something you must do, MacAslan.' He showed me figures in a book, Donald, and I saw, then, that it was true. Something must be done. Figures are strange things," continued the voice in the darkness thoughtfully. "Columns of figures—and when they are added up—

You can't get anything worth having for nothing," Darnay declared, offering his guest a fill of tobacco from his pouch, "and faith is worth having—it's the only thing that can save us now, when the whole world has straws in its hair. Faith is worth working for." Bulloch considered this while he filled his pipe. "To

here it was again, clamping down upon his spirit, drying up his mouth, fluttering like an imprisoned bird in his bosom.

I had nothing to fall back on, so the smallest accident was a major disaster.

Every year somebody invents something new — some new devilish machine to make our lives a burden

People can't go on living without happiness—or at least without hope.

R. L. S. put it like this: 'Let it be enough for faith that the whole creation groans in mortal frailty, strives with unconquerable constancy.

I had been watching the porters and it had looked easy; they swung the crates as if they were full of feathers, but I discovered that the crates were very heavy indeed, it took me all my time to lift them. I was soft, of course, for I had had very little exercise all the winter and I was unskilled into the bargain. The porters were amused at my attempts to help them but they were quite decent about it; probably they thought I was doing it for a joke.

She had sunk her whole personality to be Arnold's wife, but even that was not enough, he was still unsatisfied … he took everything and still wanted more. Sometimes Caroline had felt that a woman of stronger, tougher fibre might have made a better wife for Arnold, a woman who could have stood up to him and remained a whole person.

She had sunk her whole personality to be Arnold's wife, but even that was not enough, he was still unsatisfied …

Unfortunately Bel was unable to enjoy these days whole-heartedly. There was a cloud upon her spirits. She had agreed with Louise that the best thing to do was to forget all her troubles, but it is one thing to know what is the best thing to do and quite another thing to be able to do it.

The idea of writing down one's difficulties and perplexities is not a new one. Great men have found it valuable in clearing their minds and helping them to wise and deliberate judgment—why shouldn't I, in my smaller way, find a solution to my difficulties in the same manner? My mind needs clearing, God knows, and if pen and paper will help me to clear it, I shall not grudge the time or the labor involved.

Sometimes I feel the same," said Dane gravely, "as if it were too much to bear … to go through it all again, only much worse, because now one understands more, and there's none of the glitter and excitement. Now one sees the futility of the sacrifice.