Quotes About Struggle

Dios, me estas ayudando demasiado. Me has hecho demasiado fuerte. Descansa un poco, deja que me hunda en mi dolor, permíteme llorar y lamentarme, permíteme enloquecer y gritar y darme cabezazos contra la pared.

if she'd had a tough time trying to live life as the Colored Professor. Annalee knew that in this uniform, she would simply disappear. her identity would blur and fade, then - poof- disintegrate. No wonder Benita acted so angry. In these clothes, people don't even see her.

I could save Cat Neely and her mother. If only Anna would give me that coin.

The English had an army, and souls of vinegar, and they had killed and killed, and we were still not free.

Well I never! And you with a a wife and babe on the way, Colin Moriarity!" The Widow Blackthorne. Groaning inwardly, Fiona steepled her fingers against her forehead and swore to worship the Devil if God couldn't do better than this.

Our characters are forged in fires we didn't build.

By stabilizing things you defeat the point of the exercise. Stay with the uncertainty, please. Really, it's all about the struggle.

They arrive without money but with stories written on the parchment of their hearts which they don't recite easily. They are stories which have crept out of the edges of civil wars and scattered into the fleeing wind. You can read the words in their eyes, stained by despair; in their mouths, silenced and tightened by horror. You can even read the words in their thorn and weary clothes.

A whole people's tumble into raw, untested century began with one man, penning his serpentine sojourn up from slavery-- I am not quite sure of the exact place or exact date of my birth, but ... I must have been born somewhere and at some time. He began as another baby shoved directly into the wrong air.

Between the tenets of those two men [W.E.B. Du Bois and Booker T. Washington], a race strived to untangle its convoluted root, urged its whole self forward, and hurtled toward the door America had fought so hard to keep closed.

I was a grown woman before I found out black folks aren't the only ones who have hard times. Everybody's got a struggle. Nobody gets through this life easy.

When most folks think about the problems of growing up in the hood, they think about what it must feel like to be poor, or hungry, or to have your lights cut off. The struggle nobody talk about is what it feel like to be invisible, or to know in your heart the nobody cares. Mama didn't want to be famous, she wanted to be seen.

There is a myth in this country that the way out of poverty is to "pull yourself up by your bootstraps," that by sheer force of will one can change the course of one's life, no matter how great the obstacles. But in all my years reporting, I've never once spoken to someone who came from abject poverty and transcended that path without help.

Crack seemed to have a different hold on folks than liquor did. Drunks would sober up and come to their senses in the morning. But once a crackhead got hooked all they did was chase that high. Even if it meant selling everything they owned for a hit: wedding rings, household appliances, their kids' clothes. Anything that had been important didn't matter anymore.

Now it's like we on a highway to hell." He added, "At least we have Bill Cosby.

Trying to fuck you is like trying to French kiss a very small and lively gerbil. With braces.

The hardest thing to find is peace, though it lay in plain view

My strength was returning as we went on. It occurred to me then that it was in times of struggle that I found the best parts of myself-courage, loyalty, an unexpected peace- and I always discovered what I needed to break through and go on.

She had long been a cold and calculating person, and yet she had never given in to the darkness entirely. She would remember her mother's touch or the voice of a lost friend, and the tiniest bit of hope would return.

No matter how many times the world had attempted to show me how special I was, I had always remained sure that it was all a hoax, that I really wasn't special after all. That I had nothing to offer.

Habéis prestado un gran servicio a los supervivientes de Atherton. Este momento será recordado por muchas generaciones. Siempre se recordará cómo os detuvistes a luchar contra un terrible enemigo para que los demás pudieran vivir

It all scares me, and it's all like clothes in a dryer that just keep rolling around in my head from one day to the next.

There's a hell all right. It's just not where people say it is....It's here. It's life, or it's what we turn life into, I guess. It's like we have to pass through all this painful stuff to get to where we're supposed to be, on the other side.

It seems as though the only things causing pain around here are these ridiculous walls we keep building.