Quotes About Struggle

I'm too broken to be broken anymore.

But I warn you, what pulls them together is nothing a mortal man may battle; it is a holy fire, I tell you, a most holy fire that burns in them. The devil can stoke a fire as well as ever God could.

Faith. Faith in what? He'd believed in the Library, the ideal of it, anyway. He believed that it was doing good, and more, that it wanted to do good. But now he'd seen the dirty underside, and he couldn't hold on to his faith much longer.

I'm fine," I automatically tell her, because that's what I always tell her. And myself. But it doesn't take a paid psychologist to figure out that I'm not okay. I'm having flashbacks. Cold sweats. Nightmares. And now this

Amelie seemed to focus on her again. For a few seconds she regarded her, frowning, and then smiled just a little. So I recall, she said. Not all wars are waged with bullets and swords, indeed. Some are wars of wills and ideas. It's good we both remember that. The smile faded. But not all ideas win the war, and not all wills are strong enough. Darkness can descend so easily.

protecting him from the world can't

Rachel Caine

For the first time in my life I have to depend

People are people. Hateful and peaceful. Content and miserable. Honest and deceitful. With all of that inside fighting for control every minute of the day, it's a wonder everybody's not banging their heads against the wall.

Killing someone isn't like in the movies, something that you shrug off with a quip and a drink. It eats at you, even when the person you kill unquestionably has to die. And there's no way that her feelings about Melvin aren't, at the very deepest level, still complicated.

I've never been through what you have, but I've been in the dark a few times. Sometimes the light's just too bright.

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

hate has a life of its own.

Stay where I am? Jesus Christ, what choice do I have? This house is twenty-five hundred square feet of tomb. I'm not alive. I'm buried alive.

Connor already has anxiety issues. Lanny acts out on a regular basis. None of us is whole anymore.

those people live in a dystopian fantasy where they're the heroes in a world full of threats.

But the only thing more certain than death and taxes is bullies.

Being hunted by a city full of zombies might have seemed like a relief in some ways- at least you knew whom to run from, and whom to run toward.

While I was still Gina, but after The Event, I'd taken up running, and it had been grueling and exhausting until I built up my strength. Now, when I stop holding myself back, I run like I feel breath on my neck, as if I'm running for my life. It's not healthy or safe, and I'm well aware that driving myself that hard is a form of self-punishment, and also an expression of the fear I live with every day.

I'm forged hard out of pieces, like a bar of solid steel. There's nothing soft left. I'm too broken to be broken anymore.

You'll leave when your business is done here. It was not quite a question, but Jess treated it as one. I will, he said. I owe it to my father. And you owe me nothing. Jess looked away and fixed his gaze on the broad shape of the Lighthouse tower, where his friends had once held offices. I owe a lot of people a lot of things, he said and wasn't sure if was speaking for himself or his brother. No idea how I'll be able to pay all those debts.

Life is a miracle beyond our comprehension, and we should reverence it even where we have to struggle against it. . . .

Life is a miracle beyond our comprehension, and we should reverence it even where we have to struggle against it. . . . The

Some, perhaps, would fall by the way. Some, old or sick, would drop out of the caravan and creep away into a solitary place to die; others would be picked off by gunners, defying the law for the fancied pleasure of stopping in full flight a brave and fiercely burning life; still others, perhaps, would fall in exhaustion into the sea...In them burned one more the fever of migration, consuming with its fires all other desires and passions.