Quotes About Struggle

When you are depressed, believing you have failed at something regularly referred to as 'the plan of happiness' can very quickly generate despair.

It is possible to care too much. It is possible to believe that you will never be as good as anyone else. And it is possible to let these things take over.

You have heard tales of the 'jacquerie' beginning in the villages?

You spend all your life trying to do something they put people in asylums for.

No Pain No Gain

She wanted to take his hand. Her hardest task now as she grew older in the Ministry was to deal with her longing to be touched - hugged, stroked by anyone, any human being - a friend, a lover, a child or even (and here she scented danger) a servant. Of either sex. She prayed about it, asking that God's encircling arms would bring comfort. They did not

Christianity is supposed to be all about love but it's utterly useless when you're in love.

Every time my dreams threaten to become reality, something always happens and I end up alone.

That's how it is with relationships, it's a part of life, and all the great love songs and poems and films have been written by people who were standing where I was that morning as Simon shut the door. Doesn't make it any easier though.

When I'm single, I'm this fabulous, independent, confident woman, and then I get involved with one disastrous man after another and I turn into this needy, insecure, fearful girl who becomes frightened of her own shadow.

Every time we try and get it together, something happens to pull us apart, and I can't help but feel that this is just isn't meant to be. And God knows I'm happy enough on my own, but tell me, is this how am I supposed to carry on?

I feel like I don't have all the ingredients a person is supposed to have.

I have given up on speech with the Rev; there is no use explaining that you have to learn where your pain is. You have to burrow down and find the wound, and if the burden of it is too terrible to shoulder you have to shout it out; you have to shout for help. My trust, even down in that dark place I carry, is that some person will come running. And then finally the way through grief is grieving.

The harvest was a wild living thing that you were trying to tame while all the while it was dragging you behind, arms out, flailing, in the chase. But here was the miracle: Despite the chaos, the lack of planning, the bad feeling between Sherwood and my father, there was also an overriding unity of purpose, a reverence for the family history, a love for the soil within the property lines.

There were moments, I could now see, when it was understandable to completely go off your rocker. The easiest and most reasonable and maybe proper thing to do in the world, to lose hold of yourself.

As I grew into womanhood my confusion at the world became more apparent. I was taking comfort in behaviours that were familiar, not bathing, wearing multiple layers of clothes and, like my mother, I was bingeing on food. Of course I was still very much a lonely unsupported child myself when I got pregnant - one who had never been nurtured or mothered and as such I struggled with the responsibilities of parenthood.

Hope is the hardest love we carry.

The heart's reasons seen clearly, even the hardest will carry its whip-marks and sadness and must be forgiven. As the drought-starved eland forgives the drought-starved lion who finally takes her, enters willingly then the life she cannot refuse, and is lion, is fed, and does not remember the other. So few grains of happiness measured against all the dark and still the scales balance. The world asks of us only the strength we have and we give it. Then it asks more, and we give it.

Robinson Jeffers longed throughout his life ]for a poetry of 'pure undoubtable being'], but could not bear to relinquish his moral connection with the humanity he continually condemned for its self-centeredness.

We are constantly swimming towards what we think is the shore, what we think will be the answer to the problem, whether it be a new love affair, the cure for an illness, a way to stay young or the reward of heaven.

There is a quality even meaner than outright ugliness or disorder, and this meaner quality is the dishonest mask of pretended order, achieved by ignoring or suppressing the real order that is struggling to exist and to be served.

Detroit is largely composed, today, of seemingly endless square miles of low-density failure.

My throat feels hard and swollen, as if bulky words are trying to choke me.

But the best things in life never come easy—