Quotes About Struggle

When giants fought, ants were crushed.

but sometimes optimism is the only drug that works. But it's sadly temporary in its effects.

The Morganville in her wanted to tell people to go home and be safe, but she knew that was verging on crazy. The world these laughing people lived in was a very different place. She was in a very different place.

Afternoons are hard. Mornings are pure evil from the pits of hell, which is why I don't do them anymore.

In real life, you don't get a reset, and you don't get extra lives, and I got the crap pounded out of me.

And if you want to fight an old man who wants to drag the Great Library into the past, appoint a young woman who looks to the future.

Her eyes felt swollen, and she knew she looked a mess, but sometimes...sometimes the emotions were just too big to hold.

Some people come to Morganville and collapse," Michael said as he put the car in motion. "I've seen it a dozen times. But there are a few who come here and just—bloom. You're one of those." Claire didn't feel especially bloomy. "So you're saying I thrive on chaos.

Giving up is always easy. It's the peace that follows that sucks.

I never did have much, so having it rough came with the territory. I was conditioned for it.

If she'd ever had any doubts that she loved him, really loved him, she knew now. It was easy to love somebody when love was happy, but when it was hard, when it meant facing things you feared...that was different. He'd done it for her, many times. And now she had to do it for him.

Clumsiness would be just as deadly an opponent.

What kind of stupid trip is this? So far, I've been assaulted, insulted, arrested, and now I'm tied to a chair by a bunch of vampires in case they crave a little O negative at lunch. And my boyfriend is out there somewhere, dodging sunbeams. This sucks!

As he was bringing his hands up her sides, his fingers just barely brushed the outer curve of her breasts, and she gasped into his mouth. Shane immediately sat her upright, and moved to the other end of the couch. His face was flushed; his eyes were bright and no longer looked even a little bit tired. "No,'" he said, and held out his hand like a traffic cop when she tried to scoot closer. "Red flag. If you make that sound again, we are in trouble. Or I am, anyway.

He's not getting out of here again...But you don't have to go all Marquis de Sade on him either. Just kill him or let me.

How can you smell this good after the kind of crappy day we've had?

We are only the most visible casualties of a silent war, and as they lock collars on our necks and tell us it is for our protection, we know that worse will come.

It smelled like Lysol and desperation.

It's been happening since I was in kindergarten. Not them all the time, but other kids, you know. Every day. It never stops, and it never goes away, thanks to the Internet--it just keeps happening every minute, every day. And I just want it to stop. I think about how to do it, you know. How to kill them. All kinds of elaborate things, like trapping them in pits and burying them alive, or covering them with concrete.

I understood why I'd been chosen. Why I'd been plucked out of the grim and struggle. I'd always been at war.

Are you all right? The question surprised Jess, and it broke through his black shell enough to make him throw a look at his friend. No. I didn't think you were. Everyone wants you to be. That must be worse, that they think you should be fine.

It isn't fair, or right, but it's dreadfully human, the way we tear each other apart.

I won't lie, it was awful, but what was worse was slowly realizing how bad I'd been. How close I'd been to becoming . . . a thing. A senseless monster.

There's no time in a woman's life that isn't dangerous, and that's just a fact of life.