Quotes About Struggle

You're the muscle I cut from the bone and still the bone remembers, still it wants (so much, it wants) the flesh back, the real thing, if only to rail against it, if only to argue and fight, if only to miss a solve-able absence.

I don't know how to hold this truth, so I kill it, pin its terrible wings down in case, later, no one believes me.

I thought power was something you could control. Something one could do at a desk or on a job site, to work in the field of power. Now the tree is gone. The men are gone, just a ground-down stump where what felt like wisdom once was.

I loved them: my own bright dead things. I'm thirty-five and remember all that I've done wrong. Yesterday I was nice, but in truth I resented the contentment of the field. Why must we practice this surrender? What I mean is: there are days I still want to kill the carrots because I can.

I slip into bed and lie there beside Your body like a buoy that the ocean resents. If I could just grab hold and find a way to paddle, If you could stop dragging your feet along the gravel. As a child I remember knowing how to float When sober was the wind and my body, the boat. Now each step is anchored and you continue to drift In the room where we pretend that we are alive, Where you and I commit the sin, and you and I forgive.

See, our job was simple: keep on living. Her job was harder, the hardest. Her job, her work, was to let the machine of survival break down, make the factory fail, to know that this war was winless, to know that she would singlehandedly destroy us all.

Humans are so strange in the ways that we are either recovering too quickly from something or holding on to pain forever. There seems to be no middle ground. We bounce back or we wallow. But remembering the hardest moments of grief or loss and letting them be present for you in the good moments is something I've found useful and grounding as I age. It feels like a way of remembering that balance does exist. This too. This grief. This joy. Together always intertwined.

I think a lot about the word tenacity. What it takes to survive in a world that is sometimes beautiful and sometimes hostile. I'm always amazed at the body's willingness to continue, to keep going. The heart that keeps pumping, the lungs that keep breathing, the way the will to live can outsmart those other dark voices inside.

the one who wants to love you, but often isn't good at even that, the one who doesn't want to be diminished by how much she wants to be yours.

They fought man to man with their swords, even their sword grips; they thrust, stabbed, hacked, striking at limbs and bodies with axes, clubs, spears, and poles. The shadow of death descended on many eyes; its darkness overtook many who would never again see father, mother, sisters and neighbors, while others sank down in the hurly-burly with shattered limbs or other severe wounds.

I scuttled without a shell, between houses and wives, a snake between skins, a monster of selfishness, my grotesque needs naked and pink.

He can hit a man in the liver so the blood flow stops. It takes a full second before the pain registers and the man falls. I've seen Billy hook men's livers and punch at their hearts. I've seen him break a man's nose in the ring, shatter an eardrum, close an eye. I've seen him hit a man so hard, fist to jaw, the man seemed to fall asleep before he fell, his body so relaxed his face looked calm even when his head slammed against canvas.

He wanted to break me, the me I'd made, the me I'd needed to make, my need, mine, my whole life since I could remember. I didn't want to hear him that night. When I was ready to change I'd change. When life opens up before you, when you don't really know death ... it's easy to promise yourself change. Keeping the lines hard, the parts of me separate, was what I knew, how I lived.

CHAPTER NINE FIGHT TO THE END

Any time you end a relationship, and everyone has ended plenty in their life, it's always a tough thing and hard to get over.

In my early 20s I was so miserable doing construction, I wanted something that paid money. I liked nice stuff. I liked cars and architecture, and things that cost money. I wanted to not swing a hammer, and make money... and not do stuff that was dirty. I attempted to get into comedy. I started to do stand-up, but I wasn't very good at it.

Writing is like shadow boxing. Editing is when the shadows fight back.

Garbo's role may lack persuasion today; but from the odious butcher insulting and taunting the food queues at his shop, refusing meat to women he found unattractive or unwilling, to the scenes of the unlicensed, gluttonous revelry of the nightlife of the speculator and profiteer, and to the ultimate attack by a starving, angry crowd on a café full of merrymakers - the film was a faithful reflection of the times.

I'm still struggling to accept that Pluto may not be a planet.

At the very least they teach us that God does not always answer our prayers, even when we offer those prayers in faith at times of real and pressing need. They also teach us that while God may not answer our prayers as we pray them, God does not abandon us. More than that, these accounts tell us that God works through the situations from which we have not been delivered as we asked.

The sweeping message of the Bible is not a promise that those who believe and do good will not suffer. Instead the Bible is largely a book about people who refused to let go of their faith in the face of suffering.

we are reminded that God is often most profoundly at work in those times when we're confused, broken, or wounded.

They were often seen as terrorists as they enjoyed making Romans their victims.

It's not that God won't give you more than you can handle, but that God will help you handle all that you've been given. This