Quotes About Struggle

Anyway, you can be sure of one thing, a man's got to fake just to stay alive.

In spite of my suffering, at the thought that I was sure to end up by killing myself, I cried aloud and burst into tears.

Victims. Victims of a transitional period of morality. That is what we both certainly are.

It made me miserable that I was rapidly becoming an adult and that I was unable to do anything about it.

My unhappiness stemmed entirely from my own vices, and I had no way of fighting anybody.

Addiction is perhaps a sickness of the spirit.

Disqualified as a human beings. I had now ceased utterly to be a human beings.

Not long ago I learned from a certain person in considerable detail about the worthlessness of your character. All the same, it is you who have given me strength, you who have put the rainbow of revolution in my breast. It is you who have given an object to my life.

Love flies out the window when poverty comes in the door, they say, and it's true.

She lay down beside me, Towards dawn she pronounced for the first time the word "death." She too seemed to be weary beyond endurance of the task of being a human being; and when I reflected on my dread of the world and its bothersomeness, on money, the movement, women, my studies, it seemed impossible that I could go on living. I consented easily to her proposal.

I have sometimes thought that I have been burdened with a pack of ten misfortunes, any one of which if borne by my neighbor would be enough to make a murderer out of him.

In the present world, the most beautiful thing is a victim.

It is painful for the plant which is myself to live in the atmosphere and light of this world. Somewhere an element is lacking which would permit me to continue.

Any man who criticizes my suicide and passes judgment on me with an expression of superiority, declaring (without offering the least help) that I should have gone on living my full complement of days, is assuredly a prodigy among men quite capable of tranquilly urging the Emperor to open a fruit shop.

Humanity? Don't be silly. I know. It is knocking down your fellow-men for the sake of your own happiness.

There was something wrong about thse people. But perhaps, just as it is true of my love, they could not go on living except in the way they do. If it is true that man, once born into the world, must somehow live out his life, perhaps the appearance that people make in order to go through with it, even if it is as ugly as their appearance, should not be despised. To be alive. To be alive. An intolerably immense undertaking before which one can only gasp in apprehension.

And I was incapable of living all by myself in those lodgings where I didn't know a soul. It terrified me to sit by myself quietly in my room. I felt frightened, as if I might be set upon or struck by someone at any moment.

I have frantically played the clown in order to distangle myself from these painful relationships, only to wear myself out as a result.

Unhappiness. There are all kinds of unhappy people in the world. I suppose it would be no exaggeration to say that the world is composed entirely of unhappy people. But those people can fight their unhappiness with society fairly and squarly, and society for its part easily understands and sympathizes with such struggles.

Am I what they call an egoist? Or am I the opposite, a man of excessively weak spirit? I really don't know myself, but since I seem in either case to be a mass of vices, I drop steadily, inevitably, into unhappiness, and I have no specific plan to stave off my descent.

It occurred to me that prison life might actually be pleasanter than groaning away my sleepless nights in hellish dread of the "realities of life" as led by human beings.

If it failed I had no choice but to hang myself, a resolve which was tantamount to a bet on the existence of God.

I have never been able to meet anyone without an accompaniment of painful smiles, the buffoonery of defeat.

Such it is for those in the grips of misfortune: declarations of support and sympathy, rather than providing comfort, may merely increase the victim's pain.