Quotes About Struggle

But I've learned that there are always terrible things, and sometimes it is very important to grasp what joy and beauty you can, whenever you can.

Why was it that I was always trying to handle the werewolves instead of the other way around? Maybe because Adam's other form had big claws and great big teeth.

Lugh's walking stick ate the Gray Lord's spell, and in doing so, it died. To save me.

It's easier to be horrible if you can squash everyone who tries to stop you.

Dear God...Please don't let me end up in a wheelchair again. No broken bones would be a happy bonus, but I'm not expecting you to make up for my stupidity quite so completely...Whatever happens, you don't let that vampire make it out of here still moving. If he wins, it will be bad news. Any help you can give us will be appreciated. Amen.

But despair was not a synonym for sorrow or regret. Despair was the loss of hope.

Maybe leave it for the ugly thing that your pack's witch has become.

I have seen him fight -- and so have you. I am not sure this is a fight we can win. But there is one thing I do know, and that is that we will not, we cannot, wait around until he kills another innocent. We might die fighting him, but if we do not try and stop him, we are already defeated.

Whether those lives are a couple of decades or a couple of centuries long, living means that we get hurt, and some of those wounds don't heal or they don't heal completely.

Do not go gentle into that good night,' Samuel. 'Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Samuel just feels that he no longer belongs, that he accomplishes nothing by his existence. Even the Omega cannot fix him.

was in a battle for my soul, and the evil spirit that was trying to possess me has been, very slowly, winning." He smiled broadly, raised his glass at Anna, and said, "Until today.

Very well. You may help me to exterminate the society of wizards.

She said that time and death are the greatest enemies all of us must face, and the only weapon stronger than they are is love.

How goes the battle?

How's the battle?

But how can the devil be stopped when he lives inside you?

It was really hard too, because I always had a lot of feeling. You know, when I was little I used to pray to God that I'd grow up fast so I wouldn't feel anymore

It seems I am fated always to be wading through the shite, thought Becket a few hours later, coughing and trying not to breathe through his nose. Before him stretched a foul plain down to the Thames mudflats, lined with long dykes. The nearest steamed gently before him: a dunghill of magnificent, epic size. Stench of piss and shit many weeks old was making the air blue above them and the number of different mephitic and disease-laden odours hardly bore thinking about.

But by the time you've worked long enough, hard enough, Real Life (which insists on being capitalized as if it were a personage with a proper name and a right to barge into this rental unit called your life) begins to reveal itself as something other than effort, other than accomplishment. Real Life wishes to be left to its own purposeless devices.

It's hard enough to work and raise a family when your kids are all healthy and relatively normal, but when you add on some kind of disability or disease, it can just be such a burden.

We're seeing quite a lot of people who really would like a return to class-based politics.

While writing the first draft is an exercise in shutting down all of the things we think we know so that the story features come tumbling out, the revision is the end of the joy ride. We pull on the gloves and sort of poke around inside the body. Is that a tumor? Will that limb need amputation? I nearly second-guessed myself into heart failure while learning to self-edit.

The central character is an incomplete package of yearning that takes the length of the novel to complete. Completion, though, is not to be confused with perfection.