Quotes About Struggle

The history you don't want to talk about. The details you wish you could forget. The pain that never goes away, no matter how much time passes. I

Sometimes I think we spend too much time trying to figure out the how of things - the war, man's inhumanity, destiny, genius....one simple kiss that the whole world fits into. All that matters is that we try to live the best things and turn our backs on the worst.

Yet I still remember how our white suffragist sisters barred us from attending their conventions in 1901 and 1903.

And I realize that the decision to be human is not one single instant, but is a thousand choices made very day. It is choices we make every second and requires constant vigilance. We have to fight to remain human.

They bound me hand and foot; they placed me in a solitary darkness. They put a mask upon my face, with a metal bit between my lips to silence me. They gave me a tongue; and then stopped it up, so they would not have to hear it crying.

I was thinking of how sometimes, trying to say the right thing to people, it's like some kind of brain surgery, and you have to tweak exactly the right part of the lobe. except with talking, it's more like brain surgery with old, rusted skewers and things, and maybe like those things you use to eat lobster, but brown. And you have to get exactly the right place, and you're touching around in the brain, But the patient, she keeps jumping and saying ow.

Even the basic facts of Dmitri Shostakovich's life are often contested, as a glance through the end notes of this book attests. How do we reconstruct the story of someone who lived in a period in which everyone had an excuse to lie, evade, accuse, or keep silent?

I think that it is clear to everyone what happens in the Fifth. The rejoicing is forced, created under threat. . . . It's as if someone were beating you with a stick and saying, 'Your business is rejoicing, your business is rejoicing,' and you rise, shaky, and go marching off, muttering, 'Our business is rejoicing, our business is rejoicing.' . . . You have to be a complete oaf not to hear that.

While these terms — Bolshevik, Communist, Marxist, socialist, and Soviet — are sometimes used interchangeably, many people have died to make distinctions among them.

What is all this? What did we fight for? Why did we shed our blood, if I can't dance to my heart's content — and I'm supposed to be a leader of the new society!

As his neighbor Tatyana Litvinova described it, "Nobody who saw him taking his bows on the platform after his music had been performed could forget his crooked figure, his grimace of misery and the fingers that never stopped drumming on his cheek. It was torture just to watch him! He minced his steps and bowed like a circus pony. There was something robot-like in his movements." He didn't need to be nervous.

It is truly a marvel, but I tell you, hatred and love may live cramped together, crouching in the same heart. There are many secret chambers in our hearts where love can hide and many battlements where hate can stand, watching for enemies.

Meili pitchers herself in Heaven Township again, sitting in a safe and peaceful yard, knitting quietly while inhaling deep breaths of the chemicals that prevent women conceiving. She doesn't know how long it will take to travel from the fertile mountains of Nuwa to the sterile fields of Heaven Township, but at least she now has a sense of where happiness lies.

It's still alive, the stubborn little thing. What shall we do with it? Strangle it. We]ll register it as a stillbirth. Don't wipe its face. Illegal babies aren't entitled to have their mucus removed.

It's still alive, the stubborn little thing. What shall we do with it? Strangle it. We'll register it as a stillbirth. Don't wipe its face. Illegal babies aren't entitled to have their mucus removed.

When the people around you have lost their will to be free, then earth becomes a hell.

Merecemos o nosso passo de bichos de dilúvio merecemos que nos ceguem todos os dias merecemos estar sozinhos rodeados de prédios merecemos ter connosco toda a vontade fim princípio moleza de costumes [...]

Tudo se resume e se resumirá, pelos séculos, a uma estratificada e convencional briguinha entre o Mal e o Bem.

One minute you're bleeding. The next minute you're hemorrhaging. The next minute you're painting the Mona Lisa.

When I putt, my emotions collide like tectonic plates. It's left my memory circuits full of scars that won't heal.

Our country has had a hard time learning that lesson with energy.

He felt that there is a loose balance of good and evil, and that the art of living consists in getting the greatest good out of the greatest evil.

I've always turned my anger inwards towards self-destruction.

O Liberty! What crimes are committed in thy name!