Quotes About Struggle

We are battered and broken, but we're all small miracles.

Your father used to say that being scared just meant you had something worth coming back to Queen Maureen said And he used to tell me he was scared all the time.

She had spent her entire life being what everyone wanted her to be. The perfect daughter, the budding artist, the best friend, the first love. She had been so busy meeting everyone's expectations, in fact, that it had taken her years to remember exactly why it was all one big farce. She was not perfect, far from it, and what you saw on the outside was not what you really were getting. Deep down, she was dirty, and this was the kind of thing that happened to girls like her.

The moral of the story is that sometimes, you can attempt to make all the difference in the world, and it still is like trying to stem the tide with a sieve. The moral of this story is that no matter how much we try, no matter how much we want it... some stories just don't have a happy ending

As it turns out, public defenders are less Superman and more Sisyphus, and there's no small number of lawyers who wind up crushed under the weight of the infinite caseloads and the crappy hours and the shitty pay.

You, Seven pronounced, are a train wreck of sexual history. But this is inaccurate. A runaway train is an accident. Me, I'll jump in front of the tracks. I'll even tie myself down in front of the speeding engine. There's some illogical part of me that still believes if you want Superman to show up, first there's got to be someone worth saving.

But then again, maybe bad things happen because it's the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.

Maybe it was because I wanted to control one part of me that had been uncontrollable, so the rest of me would fall into line.

people who didn't talk about their problems got to pretend they didn't have any. People who discussed what was wrong, on the other hand, fought and ached and felt miserable.

But risk always looks different when you are beating he system than when you've been beaten

Since when does anyone get the option to do what's easiest?

The terrible thing about falling in love is that real life always gets in the way.

Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.

Lately, I have been having nightmares, where I'm cut into so many pieces that there isn't enough of me to be put back together.

The moral of this story is that sometimes, you can attempt to make all the difference in the world, and it still is like trying to stem the tide with a sieve. The moral of this story is that no matter how much we try, no matter how much we want it... some stories just don't have a happy ending

Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate.

I believe in Hell . . . but it's here on earth." He shakes his head. "Good people and bad people. As if it were this easy. Everyone is both of these at once.

Her mind is running in circles, like a gerbil on a wheel, the same way mine is. Chase every rung of possibility, and you still get absolutely nowhere.

THEY PUT ME IN CHAINS. Just like that, they shackle my hands in front of me, as if that doesn't send two hundred years of history running through my veins like an electric current. As if I can't feel my great-great-grandmother and her mother standing on an auction block. They put me in chains, and my son—who I've told, every day since he was born, You are more than the color of your skin—my son watches.

The Center had suffered scars from the cuts of politicians and the barbs of protesters. It had licked its wounds and healed. At one point it had been called the Center for Women and Reproductive Health. But there were those who believed if you do not name a thing, it ceases to exist, and so its title was amputated, like a war injury. But still, it survived. First it became the Center for Women. And then, just: the Center.

Kai gim? vaikai ir Luisas jaut?si toks kone absurdiškai laimingas, kad tragedija reg?josi tiesiog neišvengiama, jis žaisdavo mintyse tok? žaidim?. Gul?davo lovoje ir prisiversdavo pasirinkti, ko pirmiausia sutikt? netekti: santuokos, darbo, kurio nors vaiko. Jam buvo ?domu, kiek žmogus gal?t? pakelti, kol virst? nuliu.

But this isn't true. Inside each of us is a monster; inside each of us is a saint. The real question is which one we nurture the most, which one will smite the other. To

What if the puzzle of the world was a shape you didn't fit into? And the only way to survive was to mutilate yourself, carve away your corners, sand yourself down, modify yourself to fit? How

What good was a personal victory to someone who'd spent her life losing herself for the greater good of everyone else?