Quotes About Struggle

I want you to beat down the me in me that can't coexist with me.

Can we cut the Zen crap for a moment?" I ask. "I'm trying to beat this bag to a pulp.

But you have to take control of your destiny. And sometimes that's not easy.

What makes this inner void so difficult to deal with is that it's amorphous. We can't fix it because we can't pinpoint its precise cause. And even if we could, we wouldn't be able to banish it. It's the price we pay for being human.

No hay rebelión de la mujer sin crisis de poder.

Cânt?, Maria, fluxul, cânt?-l acum când te biruie, strig?-l acum, când se n?ruie, valul, deasupra. Tremur?, fir, ?i te bucur?; ropotul iar o s?-nceap?, bol?ile-s negre de ap? neodihnit?.

I feel an overwhelming compassion and understanding for another human being caught in a situation where the way out is so obvious to others but not to him. Dreams are so important in one's life, yet if followed blindly, they can lead to the disintergration of one's soul.

Looping. Some days are so dark I can't see anything but a miserable fog of number after number, word after word, clouds of verbs and nouns and none of them the ones that will make time go backward.

The world isn't large enough for heroes and monsters at once. There's too much danger of confusion between the two categories.

I was a protestor. I was such a protestor that I regularly protested things that might have been good for me.

I was becoming convinced that I was going to be lonely for the rest of my life. It wasn't that I wasn't meeting men. I was. It was just that they all drove me crazy.

Do you think sixty-five-year-old women don't go to war? We are always at war. Our husbands spent their lives in comfortable chairs. Have we ever sat in comfortable chairs? No. Yoga balls, haunches tensed.

Making someone fall out of love, particularly when it is the kind of love that is meant to be, is much harder than murder.

Some days I'm just sixteen, and sixteen isn't what I want to be.

Maybe we're brokenhearted, but why isn't it rational to have a broken heart? It is utter shit out there, the things you can't control. The world is full of wrongs, and mess and distress and horror. Who can really be blamed for wanting to dig their way down and live in a hole, or disappear into a cave and never be around humans again? If all people do is hurt each other?

The world is full of worse than anyone has yet imagined, and there's only so much room.

Wonders have been born before. Sometimes they've been worshipped. There've been new things over and over, and some creatures have fallen groaning to the ground and others have learned to fly.

Each of them, living, was intolerable to the other, and in fury, they fell to it.

Nothing like trouble to make a day pass faster.

Grendel hurt, and so he hunted.

I'm this thing that emerged from it, some kind of miserable Phoenix.

I'm a hoax, a dying boy who's grown wings.

Vertigo, that's where I am. Pi wants to take over, but I don't let it. Looping wants to occur, but I remain sentient, and I don't do any of the various forms of out-freaking I want to do.

You're still trying to get out of hell, and it's a long climb. You'll think flight may be the answer, but you don't learn to skateboard by watching boys on the half-pipe, and you don't learn to fly by watching boys jump off cliffs, shirtless, skinny, while you hold the car keys.