Quotes About Struggle

His expression was strained. I'm trying like hell to be the good guy here. I need you to go inside and lock the door behind you to keep out of trouble. I thought Wildstone was safe. It is. The trouble isn't going to come from the unknown. It's going to come from me. Go, Quinn. Now. And lock your door. She stared up at him, mesmerized by the thought of him being trouble, images going through her head of him proving it to her, all of them involving little to no clothing and a bed.

Hope was elusive, and a total bitch.

Just making sure you're okay." "Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, trying to be a cool cucumber. This got her another mouth twitch. "I don't know, Speed Racer, maybe because you came in hot and just lost a fight with a manzanita bush. Do you need help?" "No, thank you." He gave her car a look of doubt.

She was very busy fighting a full-facial, saltwater cavity wash when two big hands gripped her arms and hauled her upright.

He held up his hand, and in it was... Oh, God. The neon-pink vibrator, glowing in the dark now. It was following her, stalking her, all the way down the yellow brick road to hell.

So we said we weren't going there," he repeated, and she wasn't sure if it was disappointment or relief when he let her go and turned away. "Actually," she said to his back. His bare back. Tanned. Sleek. Ripped with strength. "You said that we weren't going to go there. Because even though you're leaving and it was so awful, I still want to. Go there, that is.

I can't think in your presence. Why not? Because looking at you is like... She tossed up her hands. It's like walking down the chips and cookie aisle at the grocery store. I can't resist you, and then I'll forget why you're bad for me.

Here was the thing: life sucked if you let it ... Caffeine helped. For up to thirty-eight blissful minutes it could even trick her into thinking she was in a decent mood.

How am I supposed to make big decisions when I still have to sing the alphabet in my head to get to the right letter?

Problem?" Riggs asked. "You mean other than my life sucks and I'm wearing a unicorn onesie?

Granted, he'd been royally messed up at that time. Years ago, Jason had died of a rare and misdiagnosed heart condition. His family had fallen apart, and James had . . . lost himself. So much so that he'd asked Hannah to walk away from her life and go explore the planet with him. She'd declined and ghosted him.

Emotionally detach, she ordered herself, no matter that he smells good and has a body you want to lick like an ice cream cone.

She realized the murderous urges suggested that she, in fact, did not have this, but hey, no one was perfect.

After that, he'd turned to fighting, and not the good kind either. Finn, physically older by seven years, mentally older by about a hundred, had single-handedly saved Sean from just about every situation he'd ever landed himself in.

Regardless of the cause of depression, one factor remains constant: depression always centers on death and pain.

If the devil can't make you bad, he will make you busy.

You know how confusing the whole good-evil concept is for me.

Heroism doesn't pay very well. I try to be cold-blooded and money-oriented, but I keep screwing it up.

Wizards and computers get along about as well as flamethrowers and libraries.

Harry Dresden. Saving the world, one act of random destruction at a time.

It isn't enough to stand up and fight darkness. You've got to stand apart from it, too. You've got to be different from it.

Pain is a byproduct of life. That's the truth. Life sometimes sucks. That's true for everyone. But if you don't face the pain and the suck, you don't ever get the other things either. Laughter. Joy. Love. Pain passes, but those things are worth fighting for. Worth dying for.

If your opponent has you by fifty pounds, winning a fight against him is a dubious proposition, at best. If your opponent has you by eight thousand and fifty pounds, you've left the realm of combat and enrolled yourself in Road-kill 101. Or possibly in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

The married thing. Sometimes I look at it and feel like someone from a Dickens novel, standing outside in the cold and staring in at Christmas dinner. Relationships hadn't ever really worked for me. I think it's had something to do with all the demons, ghosts, and human sacrifice.