Quotes About Strength (page 9)
No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.
Haruki Murakami
enjoying a tranquillity in which I
won’t write the works I don’t write now, and to keep on
not writing them I’ll come up with even better excuses
than the ones I use today to elude myself. Or I’ll be in an
institution for paupers, happy in my utter defeat, mixed
up with the rabble of would-be geniuses who were no more than beggars with dreams, thrown in with the
anonymous throng of those who didn’t have strength enough to conquer nor renunciation enough to conquer enough to conquer nor...
Fernando Pessoa
Once more the odious courtesies began, the first handed the knife across K. to the second, who handed it across K. back again to the first. K. now perceived clearly that he was supposed to seize the knife himself, as it traveled from hand to hand above him, and plunge it into his own breast. But he did not do so, he merely turned his head, which was still free to move, and gazed around him. He could not completely rise to the occasion, he could not relieve the officials of all their tasks;...
Franz Kafka
If you refuse me, I shall be compelled to believe that you are cruelly enjoying my misery, and that you have learned in the most accursed school that the best way of preventing a young man from curing himself of an amorous passion is to excite it constantly; but you must agree with me that, to put such tyranny in practice, it is necessary to hate the person it is practised upon, and, if that be so, I ought to call upon my reason to give me the strength necessary to hate you likewise.
Giacomo Casanova
She was getting used to his rhythms and his moods, recognizing the quiet signals that telegraphed who he was. Good and bad, strengths and faults, he was hers forever.
As she pulled into the driveway, she spotted Logan coming down the steps from the house, and she waved.
She was his forever, too—imperfect as she was. Take it or leave it, she thought. She was who she was.
As Logan walked toward her, he smiled as if reading her mind and opened his arms.
Nicholas Sparks