Quotes About Struggle

Simon hated her for that. Perhaps it was automatic. Her appearance alone made her different from him, and human beings had always feared and hated anyone who was different. Two thousand years of history saw it being repeated over and over, the perpetual struggle of one race, or tribe, or creed, against another... each one thinking they were right, superior, morally justified, or chosen by God. Simon saw himself as normal, Laura as abnormal.

Six Stars,' he exclaimed. 'Finding the right words is hard!

Yeah, I thought to myself, like LSD, a black lover is the thing this year. I had seen the white girls in the Village and at off-Broadway theaters clutching their black men tightly while I, manless, looked on with bitterness. I often vowed I would find me an ofay in self-defense, but I could never bring myself to condone the wholesale rape of my slave ancestors by letting a white man touch me.

You white women have always managed to have your cake and eat it, too.

Do not struggle when the hook of a word pulls you into the air of truth and you cannot breathe.

Help me," said the Brown Sister. Her face

She lay still and tried to fish the name out of the water of memory that flooded her mind, but it was no use.

Aid workers, when handing out food to starving people, quickly learn that the people fighting for it at the front are the people who need it least. It's the people sitting quietly at the back, too weak to fight, who need it the most. And so too with tragedy.

Better to accept the wretched truth than struggle, twisting to make a wish a reality.

He tried to let her know it would be all right. Eventually. Life wouldn't always be this painful. The world wouldn't always be this brutal. Give it time, little one. Give it another chance. Come back.

She picked up her book and tried to read but it was heavy in her hands. She struggled to hold it, wanting to finish the story, wanting to know how it ended. She was afraid she'd run out of time before she ran out of book.

The terror of falling asleep knowing that on waking she'd relive the loss, like Prometheus bound and tormented each day. Everything had changed. Even her grammar. Suddenly she lived in the past tense. And the singular.

Hope offered, then denied. A particular cruelty.

There seems such a fine line between falling into place and falling apart.

It was no use telling her he understood. Or that it was all right. She'd earned the right to no easy answer.

I saw a lot of men die there. Most men. Do you know what killed them?"…"Despair," said Finney. "They believed themselves to be prisoners. I lived with those men, ate the same maggot-infested food, slept in the same beds, did the same back-breaking work. But they died and I lived. Do you know why?" "You were free." "I was free. Milton was right…the mind is its own place. I was never a prisoner. Not then, not now.

Her voice was flat, in a way Myrna recognized from years of listening to people trying to rein in their emotions. To squash them down, flatten, them, and with them their words and their voices. Desperately trying to make the horrific sound mundane.

The world turned upside down,' Beauvoir continued. 'It was at once more beautiful and more frightening than you'd been led to believe. And suddenly you didn't know what to do. Who to trust. Where to turn. It's terrifying. Being lost is so much worse than being on the wrong road. That's why people stay on it for so long.

Good hearts get hurt. Good hearts get broken, Armand. And then they lash out.

Do you know, Armand, I can't remember the last time I felt safe." "I know what you mean," said Gamache. "It feels as though this has been going on forever." "No, I don't mean just this mess. I mean all my life.

He was tired of the tyranny of the greater good.

They don't teach this at medical school, but I've seen it in real life. People die in bits and pieces. A series of petites morts. Little deaths. They lose their sight, their hearing, their independence. Those are the physical ones. But there're others. Less obvious, but more fatal. They lose heart. They lose hope. They lose faith. They lose interest. And finally, they lose themselves.

They don't teach this at medical school, but I've seen it in real life. People dying in bits and pieces. A series of petites morts. Little deaths. They lose their sight, their hearing, their independence. Those are the physical ones. But there're others. Less obvious, but more fatal. They lose heart. They lose hope. They lose faith. They lose interest. And finally, they lose themselves.

We can all fall," said the abbot. "But perhaps not as hard and not as fast and not as far as someone who spends his life on the ascent.