Quotes About Struggle

I think we were meant to fight a good fight, and I think we're better for fighting it.

The Road of Bones," said Dan. "That's a little bit unpleasant even by my standards.

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.

Physically, mentally, emotionally -- it seems like every part of me is broken in one way or another.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Sorry Mr. Yipes, sir, she won't budge!' Put your back into it, man, give it all you've got!' Bang! Bang! Bang!

Oh, Oiseau, you want Independence, but that idea weighs you down like handcuffs. First, be free before the idea. Then: make a list of the things in your head and in your stomach that chain you up. That's where it starts, that struggle of yours...

La nuit avance ainsi, dans l'hécatombe des héroïsmes et le hasard des survivances.

In Los Angeles, as I gained and lost celebrity, then gained it again, I often found myself wondering why I, out of thousands like me, had become famous.

Yersin không tin l?y m?t giây vào m?y cái ?i?p khúc cách m?ng. Gi?t ng??i ?? nuôi s?ng nh?ng gi?c m?.

women and children – the 'useless mouths', Churchill chillingly called them – had been abruptly and inefficiently shipped out at the start of hostilities so that the colony could become a garrison.

However much we wish the soul's path to be straight, upward, and ascending, it is more likely to be meandering, full of regressions, downward turns, and backward glances.

Those who run fast in life will be given an extra load to carry so that they may keep up with those that are walking through life.

Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it! Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death! (American Revolutionary War)

Gentlemen may cry peace, peace- but there is no peace! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why should we idle here?...I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

Cho tôi t? do hay ?? tôi ch?t.

Why stay we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God. I know not what course others may take, but as for me: give me liberty, or give me death!

Somewhere in the last century, Western man suffered a catastrophic loss of faith—in himself, in his civilization, and in the faith that gave it birth.

Americans who look on this cultural revolution as politics-as-usual do not understand it. It means to make an end of the country we love. It cannot be appeased. Its relentless, reckless use of terms like extremist, sexist, racist, homophobe, nativist, xenophobe, fascist, and Nazi testifies to how seriously it takes the struggle and how it views those who resist. To true believers in the revolution, the Right is not just wrong; the Right is evil.

Prosperity has strangled us," says Dr. Pierpaolo Donati, a leading Catholic intellectual and professor of sociology at the University of Bologna. "Comfort is now the only thing anybody believes in. The ethic of sacrifice for a family—one of the basic ideas of human societies—has become a historical notion. It is astonishing."22

For the addict, however, there is no choice. No choice. The addiction is in charge.

I was familiar with humans at this point only from afar, but even from there, I found them a pitiable species: scaleless, fangless, clawless, nearly furless, wingless, venomless, witless. I honestly didn't understand how they had thrived so.

Life in a box was unbearable. How did humans stand it?

So I'd been captured? So I was starving? Did that mean I had to shrivel up and die? I could still slither. I could still hiss. Nothing had been stolen from me except my freedom. What I needed was a new plan.

My chin is weak. I find it hard to make decisions. For years I had been caught between the two stools of security on the land and rich-scented life on the exotic islands of literature. I wasn't really a writer. I had seen a strange beautiful light on the hills and that was all.