Quotes About Struggle

It's a hard world for little things.

El Señor guarde a los niños! Pues todos ellos tienen su Predicador que los persigue por el sombrío río del miedo y la imposibilidad de expresar lo que sienten y las puertas cerradas. Todos son mudos y están solos, porque no hay palabras para expresar el miedo de un niño, ni oídos que le presten atención, y, si las hubiera, nadie las entendería aunque las oyera. ¡El Señor guarde a los niños! Los niños lo soportan todo y superan cualquier obstáculo.

We struggle. Always. We are doing the best that we can. And we dream of transcendence. For me, there was a time when the dream was incarnate. And the dream's name was Muhammad Ali. This is the story of my time spent with that dream.

Heaven knows that I have done all that a mortal could do, to save the people, and the failure was not my fault, but the fault of others.

The enemy fought with savage fury, and met death with all its horrors, without shrinking or complaining: not one asked to be spared, but fought as long as they could stand or sit.

Fame is like a shaved pig with a greased tail, and it is only after it has slipped through the hands of some thousands, that some fellow, by mere chance, holds on to it!

There's a reason why you never see large-chested women finishing marathons first. They've been beaten to death by their breasts around Mile 5. It ain't pretty.

I am not the only parent in the history of the planet to have their asses handed to them by something they could fit in a purse.

but it really hurt, so she

it ate away at me when i was already full of holes

Nothing in life was possible unless you were old and rich, until then you were only small and futile before your tormentors, desperately waiting for the release that only years could bring. You bodly threw down your challenges and then ran away in a childish panic when someone picked them up...

What were you to do when you didn't know anyone who could help you, no one who could explain the way to the things you wanted- what could you do- you couldn't just take a spade, a few bricks, and a gerenium and see what happened. You had to be rich, you had to be educated; you had to be powerful to stop conyagious ugliness from spreading.

Feeling like your life's been ripped apart and put together again, only put together wrong.

Quantunque degli esseri umani avessi un terrore mortale, sembravo assolutamente incapace di rinunciare alla loro compagnia. M'ingegnai a mantenere a fior di pelle un sorriso che non abbandonò le mie labbra un instante; fu questo l'accomodamento che offrivo alla gente.

Incapace com'ero di nutrire un briciolo di fiducia nella mia facoltà di parlare e d'agire come un essere umano, custodivo rinchiuse nel petto le mie angosce solitarie. Tenevo nascoste l'agitazione e la malinconia, preoccupandomi d'evitare che avesse a trapelarne qualche traccia.

Tutto passa. Questa è la sola e unica cosa che a parer mio s'avvicini alla verità, nella società degli esseri umani, dove ho dimorato sin oggi come in un inferno rovente. Tutto passa.

hope and passion slip through your fingers like sand and in front of you lies a vast stretch of darkness

Thus every day, from morning to night, I wait in despair for something. I wish I could be glad that I was born, that I am alive, that there are people and a world.

Looking around, I wonder what is it that makes my fellows able to bear such a life. How can they face the day, when I can't? Is there some secret to living that makes its conditions irrelevant? A neutering of expectation, a mastery of the mundane? Or have they just grown accustomed to rape?

What I'am learning is the world laughs through its ass every day, then just lies double-time when shit goes down. It's like we're on a Pritikin diet of fucken lies. I mean - what kind of fucken life is this?

Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push at it, stretch it, it will never be enough. You kick at it, beat at it, it will never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment you leave dying.

No people in history have ever survived, who thought they could protect their freedom by making themselves inoffensive to their enemies.

I'm a recovering abstainer

The Path Of Least Resistance Is Littered With The Corpses Of The Bored To Death