Quotes About Struggle

Mr. Pantalone was rubbing the back of his neck like he was in pain. "It's like herding fish," he mumbled. "You want them to go one way, and then you're riding a mooncalf in the river.

Pulling away felt like ripping my own chest hair out. (Hair. Singular. I didn't delude myself.)

Cheever started rocking back and forth, shaking, and Cambridge made an unhappy little sound. "Oh, son. Pain makes you selfish, did you not know that?

God, my son was wounded as he fought forces beyond his control. He's a good boy, and he works hard to do what's right, and we love him very much. We ask that you care for him, and heal his wounds if it is your will, and care for his soul if it is not. May the one who blessed our ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah, bless and heal Ellery Joseph Cramer.

We're all broken inside a little. You step on us in the right places, we're gonna fucking shatter.

That must be rough, wanting to be the rag doll, wishing you were the ragged thing, when all you did wrong was be too perfect.

And…." Oh! Kelly's boy was crying. Crying so hard he couldn't breathe. Crying so hard he could barely talk! Kelly's arms were sprained at the shoulders, because two guys had held them behind him and he'd struggled, oh, he'd struggled so fucking hard. Carefully he raised his hand to cup Seth's cheek and saw the bruises, then felt his stomach go cold. "Seth? Seth… mijo. What did you do?

Your ass is trying to make shit into diamonds," Mackey snapped,

Davy's boyfriend—husband, dammit, husband!—had a niece who they cared for. Henry had forgotten about that until he'd walked up onto their porch, and suddenly he couldn't decide who was dirtier, his brother for coming out to the family and walking away or Henry for getting kicked off the farm and dragging all his problems with him.

It's hard to look for another man when your sky turns black and the world has crumbled up and turned to powder. I don't have a spare heart in my pocket in case you don't learn to duck and I lose you. You have to have faith in the world to love, Jackson. You are my faith. Don't take my faith away from me.

You'd never force me. And you'd never betray me. But I don't know if you could care enough about me to help me deal with all that other stuff. I'm… I'm not going to be okay with the porn right away. Can you deal with it when I'm an asshole about that? Can you help me not hurt you too much?

Yeah, you gotta stomp down on your emotions until they rise up, grab you by the throat, shake you around a little, and then grind you into the pavement. I've done that.

Ace really only had one goal in life, and it was to keep his skinny blond dirty bomb of a boyfriend from detonating and killing them all.

It's not privilege when it makes you feel awful, when it cripples your ability to do good things in the world.

he and Noah competing for space like electrons in an unstable gas.

I'm stupid. I mean, God. My first relationship was a clusterfuck of entrapment—you know that.

God, Con. The way he talked about you—I'm surprised you didn't go stark-raving bonkers in public sooner. But then I guess we both know which one of you was stronger.

Cheever was silent then, appalled, because it sort of hit him. He was going through hell, but his brother had already been there. And his brother was mad because Cheever had gone and foisted his hell on somebody else.

Three trips to rehab," John said at last. "The third time…." He closed his eyes and blocked it out. He couldn't do this, not now. "It was bad. I thought maybe I was the problem, right? 'Cause… 'cause I'd do anything for him. Anything. I'da stayed for another trip to rehab—I'da stayed for all

Some people got family, and those people I can get behind. But none of us—not you, or me, or hell, Kaden, who's the best man I know—can go out and change the fucking world without a lot of pain and suffering. So it's okay that's not how this started. What matters is that you ended it.

the trips to rehab—but… but if I left, maybe he'd find a way without me. Because staying wasn't doing him any good.

He wants to keep me happy and he wants to keep me fed, he makes sure that I've got blankets and a place to sleep in a bed, but the music in my heart is like a freight train. It goes and it goes and when I stop it, it's like pain, but my brother doesn't see it doesn't hear it doesn't feel it, and all there is to do is shove him out of the way. Don't want to hit my brother with the freight train.

He'd been worried. He'd been afraid. And he'd been hurt, and Mikhail almost couldn't stand it. Not Shane. Not his beautiful lover, who gave his heart and everything else to make Mikhail's world wonderful. Dammit, he wanted to shout, leave him the hell alone!

Didn't happen. Won't want this again." He sighed and wrenched himself back. "Yeah, we will," Galen said soberly. John swallowed, legitimately afraid. "I'm a recovering addict—" "And I'm not recovering," Galen said. Those luminous green eyes narrowed and glittered. "Not yet. But I want you. And you need someone. So you need to decide how this is or is not going to happen, because it's an issue.