Quotes About Struggle

All this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney in the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and sometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was accepted he himself should be denied.

Sometimes, the sun sets earlier. Days don't last forever, you know. But I'll fight as hard as I can. I can promise you that.

You cannot write to save your soul. given up it drifts and does the singing.

that's my way, always jealous and never thin

Me parecía que mi talento iba debilitándose paulatinamente. ¿Por qué no conseguía ser una bruja decente?, me preguntaba en tales ocasiones. ¿Carecía acaso de voluntad, de entusiasmo, de coraje? No me agradaba lo bastante el poder, me decía, ni me desagradaba lo bastante la fatalidad".

any moment now that sun would burst into a ball of flame, a furnace to stifle the heart of Petites Cendres, his soul felt blood-raw, liquefied deep down inside him, in a pale, cold sea where the need that gnawed at him would break your heart, a fire burnt out, his heart, that dog should not have been there on Esmeralda or Bahama Street, hunger tottering on all fours, night-prowling around the Porte du Baiser Saloon where he just would not stop living despite all odds

there is rarely any rhyme or reason in suicides. They can be a cry for help gone wrong, or a punishment to those you're leaving behind, or one fateful twenty-minute window when you lose your bearings and can't find the reasons to go on.

Suicide is a permanent question.

remember that my father was sad much of the time and that he grasped at ways of feeling better, whether through drinking or through escape. He reached out and all too often found nothing there to comfort him.

The fourth function is always life's great problem:

A human being in a neurotic state might very well be compared to a bewitched person, for people caught in a neurosis are apt to behave in a manner uncongenial and destructive towards themselves as well as others.

This anthology is a testament to American Indian consciousness continuing to circulate, regardless of past or present genocidal attempts, whether cerebral, endemic, systematic, or otherwise.

Some days you get the bear, some days the bear gets you, and some days you cannot even find the woods.

You don't feel like you're hurting yourself when you're cutting. You feel like this is the only way to take care of yourself.

Since many cutters come from enmeshed families—where identity, family role, and boundary are confused—the task of establishing an independent identity is much more difficult. And if a girl has only a tenuous internal representation of herself to begin with, she may fear that the physical changes wrought by puberty will make her into someone else—a stranger unrecognizable even to herself.

Cutting is not attention seeking. It's not manipulation. It's a coping mechanism—a punitive, unpleasant, potentially dangerous one—but it works. It helps me cope with strong emotions that I don't know how to deal with. Don't tell me I'm sick, don't tell me to stop. Don't try to make me feel guilty, that how I feel already. Listen to me, support me, help me.

Cutting and eating disorders serve such deep-seated psychological and physiological needs that to treat only the symptoms—by force feeding or hiding all sharp implements—will generally only set up a power struggle between parent and child, patient and therapist. If the coping strategy one has depended on for so long is suddenly taken away, a cutter or anorexic or bulimic will feel even more overwhelmed and out of control as years of suppressed emotions come roaring to the surface.

Eu vivi muito à sombra da agonia de algumas pessoas. Hoje sou uma agoniada e ninguém me aguenta. Sou em estado de porre sem nunca ter bebido.

There was no justice, there was only life. And life she had.

She drowned in words that could not teach her how to swim.

In a great gasp, puts her head in her hands again and cries as if her throat were a cave, as if the howling winds came from her belly, she cries like a storm that will never end.

Men: they are what they are and women have to accept that and try to shift around them. Especially men with power. Money. The upper hand. The raised hand. Momma`s philosophy. Here`s to you, Momma. She raised the empty cup. What`s the use of fighting them. What`s the use. To struggle, to live in anger takes everything out of you, drains you, makes people hate you and what`s the use? You get nothing you want, all you get is tired.

Who gets to choose what battle takes her down?

My goal isn't to make money, it's to try and survive and make a point.