Quotes About Struggle

Tonight, he is the enemy of my enemy." Toot gasped and gripped his spear more tightly. "A double enemy!

All right, so. The entire day wasn't a living hell. But, as it turned out, hell got up awfully early in the morning.

Game over, man. Game over.

So really, it was just as well that Godmother had caught up to me, in spite of my best efforts to avoid her. I'd hate to find out that the universe really wasn't conspiring against me. It would jerk the rug out from under my persecution complex.

terrified. What it does to you to see the power of darkness

I'm aware of my limits. That isn't the same as liking them. (Karrin Murphy)

There's a reason he fell became synonymous for he died. Losing your feet on a battlefield is an all-but-certain death sentence.

The hour when you sit up in bed, sweating from nightmares. The hour when you awaken for no reason but to fear the future. The hour when you stare at the clock, willing yourself to sleep, knowing it isn't going to happen, and weariness and despair beat upon the doors to the vaults of your mind with leaden clubs.

Destiny is a . . . stone-cold bitch.

it left me suspended uncomfortably, stretched out between the overwhelming opposing forces, just trying to hang on. Story of my freaking life.

Things fall apart.

Please, help me. Young werewolves in love.

working for

It's a curse to be so damned talented when I'm already obscenely good-looking, but I try to soldier on as best I can.

The harder he ran, the more distance he temporarily placed between himself and his grief.

she was "giving him the devil.

Russell knew that football could jump-start a life. Football had been his ticket off the farm. Football would eventually help the orphans navigate these tough times.

Spiritual warfare is the unseen battle God wages on your behalf.

All artists as a type seem to suffer a great deal, but then so do miners.

As an English major I was familiar with the stories of dozens of writers trying to get their work done among the multifarious diversions of the world and the hurdles of their own vices. A professor had said that what saved writers is that they, like politicians, had the illusion of destiny that allowed them to overcome obstacles no matter how nominal their work.

I have this sense of being a prematurely old man in a quarrel with himself over the worth of his life, a hopelessly bullshit notion.

Goddamn but her mind was so exhausted with trying to hold the world together, tired of being the living glue for herself, as if she let go, great pieces of her life would shatter and fall off in mockery of the apocalypse.

He had been foolish enough to believe that as he recovered over the past few months the world might be recovering with him

You can have a pretty good first line but not a strong enough thought to tag along more lines and sometimes in the middle words become bored and make war on one another. Notebooks are full of these fragments, shrapnel of our intention. Life is short on conclusions and that's why it's often a struggle to end a poem.