Quotes About Struggle

You don't understand. I once worked double shifts at a 7-Eleven so we could give our oldest a toy truck and a pair of pajamas when he was a baby. We can buy our kids presents and not worry about what we're gonna eat for two months. Wow. Oh my God!

My father taught me to judge and judge hard and judge mean. And I learned that lesson so well, I judged myself right into a fucking corner." "And then what?" Lance asked. "I gnawed off my own leg to get out of it." Henry let out a broken laugh.

Amal regarded him with that steady adult expression, the new one that had come after the former administration had destroyed everybody's innocence and COVID had taken their hope. "Just tell me where to apply," he said.

It was like the time he'd driven a friend's MG in college—doable but not fun.

Sammy, I worked construction for three years. I don't know if I can be any less gay, and I am too gay for this place.

I'll be on the couch, bleeding through a number two pencil.

We were all pretty wrecked when my dad died last year. It was so unexpected—one doctor's appointment and suddenly he had cancer and a month to live.

That's the bullshit you're having trouble with. There's no beating someone at life. There's just living your life the

Crick found him there a half an hour later as he stared haplessly at a pile of bills.

The man I fought with, the man who comforted me, the man who tried valiantly to slay my inner dragons on a daily basis, in spite of their preference for the tender flesh near his heart.

Maybe someday, it won't have to be a tragedy to be gay, you

Crick had arrived and stumbled into the house, intent on rest and quiet before he killed himself to escape the pain.

I've labored my entire life for a better world than this. It's such a step backward.

That was what you got when you stayed up all night, talking to a teenager about his beloved older brother, who actually had succeeded in killing himself with his own fucking valor. That was what you got when you wandered around in a hospital, chased relentlessly by ghosts who all moaned terrible messages about being alone, forever alone, locked in a box, submerged in your own bitterness.

There was a lot of heart here, and a lot of joy of the game, but not a smidge of talent anywhere. And someone had wet their pants.

Are you the child of divorce, Tino? Did anybody you know die? Did you ever, once, not have enough to eat?" "No, sir," Tino said, shamed.

How could you commit suicide and not be a dick? Not leave detritus and wreckage behind you? But Tory—he'd taken it to the next level, hadn't he? Like sex, like drugs, like Star Wars, like anything he'd done.

Would that change? With enough peace, enough joy, would hope stop being the traitor at Deacon's table? Someday, maybe. Someday, maybe hope would be his friend.

scrawny alley cat of a man who couldn't avoid trouble if it came with detour signs was going to tell Jason how to run his own personal life? It was just that the quick jab about stomping down on his emotions until they rose up and took a guy by the throat had been so damned…

Yes, sir." "Doing this?" The guy used his hat to gesture to the framed porch. "No, sir. Fucking for money.

This was a problem when he hit the pothole in the shitty road, broke the axle, and got thrown headfirst into the windshield at twenty-five miles an hour.

His heart felt like an aging cardboard box in the rain. Only the memory of what he was supposed to be held him up.

Living poor gives you a really short view of the world. You live to your next meal, your next paycheck, your next birthday, your next high.

many of the "bad guys" were simply lost, addicted, and hungry. He had learned that many of the "good guys" were bullies, excited about using their power simply because they could.