Quotes About Struggle

There are songs, Waits says, that simply will not allow themselves to be born, and that will hold up the recording of an entire album.

Each sentence was a crowded village of capital letters and small letters, living side by side in tight misery, crawling up on one another as though trying to escape the page. His spelling was several degrees beyond arbitrary, and his punctuation brought reason to sigh with unhappiness.

they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world.

Everything is so goddamn scary. Defending

Ruin is the Road to Transformation

would happen next, as much as ever. The thing was to resist submersion for as long as possible. She clutched the great tree as if it were a horse. She pressed her cheek against its silent, living flank. She said, "You and I are very far from home, aren't we?" In the dark gardens, in the middle of the quiet city night, the tree did not

he was still my lighthouse and my albatross in equal measure; the only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying, the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving

I am very empty in the bank since the bomb.

We loved each other. That was never the question. It's just that we couldn't figure out how to stop making each other desperately, shriekingly, soul-punishingly miserable.

By all means, do not let me or anyone else ever take away your suffering, if you're committed to it!

It got worse still as time went on because people did not sympathize with you any more. They couldn't do enough for you at first, and that helped, and then they got bored with your troubles. But your troubles went on just the same and you had to bear them alone.

how much he loved being alone except when he didn't, except when it got to be too much?

Je n'ai jamais cessé, tout au long de ma vie, de rechercher l'aide d'un homme. Je l'ai trouvée souvent et, plus souvent encore, elle m'a fait défaut.

You cannot see the beauty without facing the darkness. Remember this.

You may find that when you try to live in two worlds you are at home in neither of them.

Each time it was like a stray bit of glass pressed into the softness of her heart, grinding, grinding, oh so silently until she no longer noticed when she bled.

She swallowed and licked her lips. "It's rather good." He laughed breathlessly. Have care, part of his brain whispered. This way only leads to pain. But his c*ck was pressing hard against the placket of his breeches and he wanted to take her hand and draw her away to his rooms and keep her there until she learned to scream in pleasure. Until she screamed his name and no other.

For the first time in a very long time, he yearned to see tomorrow. Tomorrow and the day after that and the year after that. There was a possibility that with Megs he might have a life to look forward to. And because of that, tonight he was going to hunt down a man and assassinate him in cold blood. This act would damn his very soul but for Megs it was worth it. For Meggie he would walk the fires of hell.

She was already in his palace, in his life. He couldn't go back--and wouldn't even if he could. She was so close to him now that it was as if he held her in his palm like a glowing ember--and gave thanks for the pain even as he inhaled the smoke from his burning flesh.

Mickey cursed under his breath, letting his head fall back against the wall. His c*ck still beat angrily against his clothing. Once he would've simply sent for a whore. Now that thought was oddly unsatisfying. He could have a willing woman, a woman who would do anything he might request of her, even the most exotic acts of sex, but instead his flesh wanted just one woman. A woman who was as fierce in her maternal love as he had been as a boy in his will to survive.

one can't live without falling now and again.

Darling," she said and caught his face between her hands, making him meet her eyes. He didn't want to. He didn't like the look in her eyes—a grim determination. "I love you," she whispered and his soul soared until she uttered her next words. "But I must leave you." "No." He clutched at her hips as if he were a child of three refusing to give up his toy sword. "No." "Yes," she replied.

She couldn't very well get up and leave him without causing a scene, but she dearly wanted to. "Well, then, in the interests of fairness, perhaps you ought to know, Your Grace, that I have no intention of yielding the field to you." Beside her he inclined his head a fraction of an inch. "Then en garde, Miss Greaves.

He inhaled and spoke without thinking, ignoring their audience. "What has happened?" "You know full well, Your Grace, for what—who—I fight." Her eyes were glittering and he couldn't believe it, but the evidence was clear. Tears. His goddess should never weep. He took her arm. "Artemis.