Quotes About Struggle

Julia Bloch: 43. Wife of Jacob. Architect, although secretly ashamed of referring to herself as such, given that she's never built a building. Immensely talented, tragically overburdened, perpetually unappreciated, seasonally optimistic. Often wonders if all it would take to completely change her life would be a complete change of context.

Would I jump or would I burn? I guess I would jump, because then I wouldn't have to feel pain. On the other hand, maybe I would burn, because then I'd at least have a chance to somehow escape, and even if I couldn't, feeling pain is still better than not feeling, isn't it?

I can't live, I've tried and I can't. If that sounds simple, it's simple like a mountain is simple.

SvÄ›t není pÃ…â"¢íÅ¡erný, ale žije na nÄ›m spousta pÃ…â"¢íÅ¡erných lidí.

I am not a bad person, he said. I am good person who has lived un a bad time.

E asa de greu sa te exprimi. - Eu inteleg. - Eu vreau sa ma exprim. - La fel si eu. - Imi caut vocea. - E in gura ta.

the humble antiques salesman who survived off charity, unable to part with any of his candelabras, figurines, or hourglasses

Am facut eforturi sa te fac sa apari ca o persoana cu mai putina neliniste, asa cum mi-ai comandat sa fac in atatea ocazii. Asta e dificil de realizat, pentru ca in realitate tu esti o persoana cu foarte multa neliniste. Poate ar trebui sa folosesti droguri.

A Lutsk ti ho comprato dei libri, le disse Yankel chiudendo la porta a prima sera, chiudendo fuori il resto del mondo. Non possiamo permetterceli, ribatté lei afferrando la borsa pesante. Domani dovrò restituirli. Non possiamo permetterci neanche di non averli. Qual è la cosa che possiamo permetterci di meno: averli o non averli? A mio parere, perdiamo in ogni caso. Meglio perdere con i libri.

Trebuie sa marturisesc ca am capatat depresie atunci si inca mai am.

His words fell through him, trying to find the floor of his sadness.

I am blind. I am supposed to be retarded.

She was the tree and also the river flowing away from the tree, 'There are worse things,' she said, 'worse than being like us. Look, at least we're alive,' I could see that she wanted those last words back, but the current was too strong.

THE PROBLEM OF EVIL: WHY UNCONDITIONALLY BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO UNCONDITIONALLY GOOD PEOPLE They never do.

Brod's life was a slow realisation that the world was not for her, and that for whatever reason, she would never be happy and honest at the same time.

When I had thought I was dying at the base of the Loschwitz Bridge, there was a single thought in my head: Keep thinking. Thinking would keep me alive. But now I am alive, and thinking is killing me.

my brain started misbehaving, and

I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me?

He wrestled because he recognized that the blessings were worth the struggle. He knew that you only get to keep what you refuse to let go of.

Life is upsetting," Irv said. "Like blood is wet.

270,000 more people become hungry each day).

Hoewel hij het bijna voortdurend betreurde dat hij zichzelf was, verwarde hij zichzelf nooit met het probleem. De wereld was het probleem. Die paste niet. Maar hoe vaak zou er ooit iemand gelukkiger zijn geworden door het laakbaarheidsrecord van de wereld te verbeteren?

All happy mornings resemble one another, as do all unhappy mornings, and that's at the bottom of what makes them so deeply unhappy: the feeling that this unhappiness has happened before, that efforts to avoid it will at best reinforce it, and probably even exacerbate it, that the universe is, for whatever inconceivable, unnecessary, and unjust reason, conspiring against the innocent sequence of clothes, breakfast, teeth and egregious cowlicks, backpacks, shoes, jackets, goodbye.

He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.