Quotes About Struggle

Even the best of us are at least part-time bastards.

I kept the fingers of my left hand crossed all the time, while on my right-hand fingers I counted anything at all—steps to the refrigerator, seconds on the clock, words in a sentence—to keep my head occupied. The counting felt like something to hang on to, as if finding the right numbers might somehow crack the code on whatever system ran the slippery universe we were moving through.

I've said it's hard. Here's how hard: everybody I know who wades deep enough into memory's waters drowns a little.

You couldn't hit the ball with a steam iron today

truck driver, but mostly earning

Things tent to get worse, before they got worse

The artist (I suppose) usually pays for the privilege by some sort of partial insomnia, by the possession of one faculty that will not be controlled nor put to sleep. In a poet this must often be the visual imagination, bringing before his eyes a succession of images which he never summoned, and of which some (it is only too likely) will be ugly or pitiful.

Laurie was just one more dropped stitch in a family tapestry already full of holes.

As much as I acted as if I could move mountains with my willpower, like thinking I could force a new business win, I knew I wasn´t really in charge of anything. Deep inside, I believed that God was. But oh, how I tried.

One does not know what Lady Emily's advice was about falling in love but later Krishna expressed surprise when she told him she was jealous. He was becoming reconciled to being without her. '...it is the question of the sun & the moon—never can they be together so the less said about it the better', he wrote on April 18. In

I consider calmly the question of how much evil I should need to kill off my finer feelings…

Some day the Devil will come to me and say: 'Come with me.' And I will answer: 'Yes.

the neurotic torture of being seductive regularly—by the night: the more that perchance the struggle always is unconscious.

But no matter how ferociously pitiable is the dried up graveyard, the sand and barrenness and the sluggish little stream have their own persistent individual damnation. The world is at least so constructed that its treasures may be damned each in a different manner and degree.

Had I been born a man I would by now have made a deep impression of myself on the world - on some part of it. But I am a woman, and God, or the Devil, or Fate, or whosoever it was, has flayed me of the thick outer skin and thrown me out into the midst of Life - has left me a lonely damned thing filled with the red, red blood of ambition and desire, but afraid to be touched, for there is no thick skin between my sensitive flesh and the and world s fingers. But I want to be touched.

To be a woman, young and all alone, is hard - hard! - is to want things, is to carry a heavy, heavy weight.

Deep down, I know that I am a child of God who has inherited divine capacities; some of them I strive to develop, others are left languishing. I also have a human side. I lose my temper, lose patience and sometimes judge others and myself.

My son John was just under a year old when I collapsed with a life-threatening kidney disease. The shame and guilt resulting from my unplanned pregnancy had continued to fester to the point that my toxic feelings literally poisoned my body.

All suffered, but not equally, for the greatest damage was borne by the poor, whose despair and anger had fueled the Commune

When the struggling young painter Rodolphe Salis opened Le Chat Noir in 1881, he had no idea that he was about to make history.

Raising a child, managing a household, and being a good wife, all the while focusing on expressing herself in ways that had never been done before, took an enormous toll on Morisot

Life is a system of recurrent pairs, the poison and the antidote being eternally packaged together by some considerate heavenly druggist.

In violence we forget who we are.

I felt caught in a dilemma that was new to me then but which since has become horribly familiar: the trap of adult life, in which you are held, wriggling, powerless to act because you can see both sides. On that occasion, as generally in the future, I compromised.