Constant Battle With Myself Quotes

I don't like the memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. It's a constant battle. a war between remembering and forgetting.

I'm in a constant battle with reality and pretend with who I am, who I want to be, and who I wish I could be with picking up the pieces, painting portraits of something strong, something whole, something to be proud of and shattering crystal vases on wooden floors while smiling, without blinking with seeing just how far I can run away from myself without forgetting myself

I don't like the memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. It's a constant battle. a war between remembering and forgetting.

At this second appearing to take the oath of the Presidential office there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement somewhat in detail of a course to be pursued seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself, and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured. On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it, all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war--seeking to dissolve the Union and divide effects by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish, and the war came. One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union even by war, while the Government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offenses; for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh." If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether." With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

Me, I am very little attached to life . . . finding myself constantly in the situation in which one finds oneself on the eve of battle, convinced only by the sentiment that when death, which terminates everything, is found amid it, anxiety is folly

I feel like I am in a constant battle with myself. I am being pushed and pulled in two different directions.

I am me because of me. No one else. My decisions brought me here, good or bad. Any my thoughts make up how I feel about myself and others. I can choose to be negative, filled with regret. Or I can choose to be filled with hope....I don't dwell in the past. I don't blame anyone for who or what I've turned out to be, and I don't carry around my hurt or baggage as excuses for how I got here....But today is what determines my tomorrow, and right here, right now is all I can really do anything about. So I stay in the moment- or try to, anyway. It is a constant battle. Being present. Being completely present with the ones around you.

I wasn’t jealous seeing you with him, Bianca.” My guttural and raw voice stills her just as she reaches the hallway. “I was in pain.” I cross the distance and take her hand in mine, slowly turning her around to face me. Tilting her head back, I cup her cheek and let it all out. “Every single smile, every word, every touch that you gave him freely made me see and bleed red. It was a constant battle inside my head to not care, to not stare and not have you all to myself.

A slave to my guilt, locked in a tiresome battle between not wanting to disappoint people and constantly feeling like a disappointment to myself.

I want to love him but I often find myself wishing he could just be an asshole all the time. This way I wouldn’t have all these inner battles with myself. I learn to navigate my way through shattered expectations and constant disappointments by putting an impenetrable wall up between us. Every time I let my guard down, I’m quickly reminded why my defenses were up in the first place.

I draw myself up next to her and look at her profile, making no effort to disguise my attention, here, where there is only Puck to see me. The evening sun loves her throat and her cheekbones. Her hair the color of cliff grass rises and falls over her face in the breeze. Her expression is less ferocious than usual, less guarded. I say, “Are you afraid?” Her eyes are far away on the horizon line, out to the west where the sun has gone but the glow remains. Somewhere out there are my capaill uisce, George Holly’s America, every gallon of water that every ship rides on. Puck doesn’t look away from the orange glow at the end of the world. “Tell me what it’s like. The race.” What it’s like is a battle. A mess of horses and men and blood. The fastest and strongest of what is left from two weeks of preparation on the sand. It’s the surf in your face, the deadly magic of November on your skin, the Scorpio drums in the place of your heartbeat. It’s speed, if you’re lucky. It’s life and it’s death or it’s both and there’s nothing like it. Once upon a time, this moment — this last light of evening the day before the race — was the best moment of the year for me. The anticipation of the game to come. But that was when all I had to lose was my life. “There’s no one braver than you on that beach.” Her voice is dismissive. “That doesn’t matter.” “It does. I meant what I said at the festival. This island cares nothing for love but it favors the brave.” Now she looks at me. She’s fierce and red, indestructible and changeable, everything that makes Thisby what it is. She asks, “Do you feel brave?” The mare goddess had told me to make another wish. It feels thin as a thread to me now, that gift of a wish. I remember the years when it felt like a promise. “I don’t know what I feel, Puck.” Puck unfolds her arms just enough to keep her balance as she leans to me, and when we kiss, she closes her eyes. She draws back and looks into my face. I have not moved, and she barely has, but the world feels strange beneath me. “Tell me what to wish for,” I say. “Tell me what to ask the sea for.” “To be happy. Happiness.” I close my eyes. My mind is full of Corr, of the ocean, of Puck Connolly’s lips on mine. “I don’t think such a thing is had on Thisby. And if it is, I don’t know how you would keep it.” The breeze blows across my closed eyelids, scented with brine and rain and winter. I can hear the ocean rocking against the island, a constant lullaby. Puck’s voice is in my ear; her breath warms my neck inside my jacket collar. “You whisper to it. What it needs to hear. Isn’t that what you said?” I tilt my head so that her mouth is on my skin. The kiss is cold where the wind blows across my cheek. Her forehead rests against my hair. I open my eyes, and the sun has gone. I feel as if the ocean is inside me, wild and uncertain. “That’s what I said. What do I need to hear?” Puck whispers, “That tomorrow we’ll rule the Scorpio Races as king and queen of Skarmouth and I’ll save the house and you’ll have your stallion. Dove will eat golden oats for the rest of her days and you will terrorize the races each year and people will come from every island in the world to find out how it is you get horses to listen to you. The piebald will carry Mutt Malvern into the sea and Gabriel will decide to stay on the island. I will have a farm and you will bring me bread for dinner.” I say, “That is what I needed to hear.” “Do you know what to wish for now?” I swallow. I have no wishing-shell to throw into the sea when I say it, but I know that the ocean hears me nonetheless. “To get what I need.

I was constantly frustrated by the tension between those who walked away from collapsing institutions and those who remained to try to mitigate the damage. For myself, I felt that the country had betrayed Dr. Ford and her testimony, and there was a connection between the paternalism that led us to pity her, and yet step over her, and the paternalism of a legal system that would increasingly treat all women the same way.

I want to love him but I often find myself wishing he could just be an asshole all the time. This way I wouldn't have all these inner battles with myself. I learn to navigate my way through shattered expectations and constant disappointments by putting an impenetrable wall up between us. Every time I let my guard down, I'm quickly reminded why my defenses were up in the first place. It's nearly impossible for me to flourish in an inconsistent hostile environment, especially when my own growth is so intertwined with his. I'm forced to face the unsettling reality that the people who are supposed to protect us are sometimes the same people we need protection from.

If you could step inside my world, here is what you would see...... A lifeless soul who is in constant search of not only someone to love but for someone to please show me how to love myself. Someone whose deepest wish is to feel what it is like to truly be loved for who I am. You would see a desperate being in a constant battle with her emotions. Praying no person could see the obvious envy that consumes her soul as she longingly observes the happiness and the joy that accompanies family and true friendships. A gathering of those who most certainly care about each other, to create cherished memories that will be forever etched in their hearts. Memories they have created to fondly look back on in the years to come. You would see the forced insincere smile that must be worn when in the public eye because being pleasant is a requirement amongst your peers, even though you are completely dying inside. You would see how i wake up every morning alone in the barely inhabitable box i reside in that hides me from having to share my pain and sadness with the world. And when the night skies appear, you would see me grateful that it is once again time for me to be reunited with the lonely, yet welcoming call of my bed in that same inhabitable box. You would see me, most eager to surrender to the sleep that would soon follow, for that is when my pain ceases to exist. My world....when most of you fantasize and anxiously anticipate what adventures lie before you when the sun comes up, i struggle hour by hour, wishing I could fast forward time, so the pain will cease to exist when the sun goes down.

And still I had not admitted to myself that I should have stopped seeing Albertine long before, for she had entered, in relation to me, that wretched period when a being, dispersed in space and time, is no longer a woman in our eyes, but a series of events on which we cannot shed light, a series of insoluble problems, a sea which, like Xerxes, we absurdly try to beat, to punish it for all that it has swallowed up. Once this period has begun, one is inevitably defeated. Happy are those who see it in time not to be drawn into a useless, exhausting battle, surrounded on all sides by the limits of our imagination, where jealousy struggles so humiliatingly that the same man who once, if the eyes of his constant companion fell for a moment on another man, imagined a conspiracy, suffered who knows what torments, may later allow her to go out alone, sometimes with the man he knows is her lover, choosing this torture which is at least familiar in preference to the terrible unknown. It is a question of finding a rhythm which one afterward follows from habit.

Maxims & Other Quotes II Exactly how we deal with our souls was at this moment the only question I thought worth asking. 181 Borges: What I most admire about Whitman is that he created Walt Whitman, an ideal projection not of himself but someone like him, a character every reader could find in his heart and admire. 184 Borges: Mythos, in Greek, is not a story that is false, it’s a story that is more than true. Myth is a tear in the fabric of reality, and immense energies pour through those holy fissures. Our stories, our poems, are rips in these holy fissures, as well, however slight. 193 Borges: Don’t question survival, mine or yours. More powers lie at your disposal than you realize. 194 Parini: I just don’t know enough. Borges: Nor I. But we all proceed on insufficient knowledge. 195 Borges: I’ve found a name for myself. Borges the Reenactor! The problem is, one never wins old battles. The losses only mount. 250 Borges: Remember that the battle between good and evil persists, and the writer’s work is constantly to reframe the argument, so that readers make the right choices. Never work from vanity. … What does Eliot say? ‘Humility is endless’ … We fail, and we fail again. We pick ourselves up. I’ve done it a thousand times, Guiseppe. Borges only deepens. 251

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While my bravery is forced, the way my body reacts to him is anything but. There’s a constant battle of fighting my attraction to him and convincing myself that any man could make my knees weaken with a single look. And ridding myself of that internal war feels like wearing a tight costume for too long and finally taking it off to breathe. There are no pretenses, no denying the way my clit pulses beneath his stare, and the wetness that coats my inner thighs when he gets close enough. There are no shutters over my eyes, hiding the truth from him as often as I hide it from myself.

606 My Jesus, despite Your graces, I see and feel all my misery. I begin my day with battle and end it with battle. As soon as I conquer one obstacle, ten more appear (69) to take its place. But I am not worried, because I know that this is the time of struggle, not peace. When the burden of the battle becomes too much for me, I throw myself like a child into the arms of the heavenly Father and trust I will not perish. O my Jesus, how prone I am to evil, and this forces me to be constantly vigilant. But I do not lose heart. I trust God’s grace, which abounds in the worst misery.

HIDDEN ME! Exterior hard as a rock. Interior soft like butter. With a look like mine, no one would imagine that I am affected by stressors. The words I've spoken, often comforted many, but to me they are worth less than a penny. Shocking, I know this is to many. My heart is weak and my mind is exploding from the pressure of being on the pedestals of many. I hate that I can't be myself, without disappointing any. What am I to do, when the praises are so many? This is a constant battle I have to fight within; while many look on, with envy. But if I should put my life on display, I wonder who would trade places with me for even a day.

EVAN I try to get into online gaming every now and then, and I constantly find there’s young kids out there who are so much better than me I can’t even participate. SETH Yeah. It’s weird to think we are thirty-one and already we can’t keep up. EVAN Eventually we won’t even understand the images on the screen. SETH Like how my grandmother would view death metal. EVAN I’m not a huge fan of death metal myself. SETH “Death Metal” ’s a great name for a videogame.

myself. People always tell me that I’m young and should enjoy being a teenager, but to me it’s only temporary fun. Being a teenager is all about fake friends, being broke, and a constant battle for popularity. While I lean back in the boat, I think about Ken’s first speech in the gym when he told us that if we went on

My Jesus, despite Your graces, I see and feel all my misery. I begin my day with battle and end it with battle. As soon as I conquer one obstacle, ten more appear (69) to take its place. But I am not worried, because I know that this is the time of struggle, not peace. When the burden of the battle becomes too much for me, I throw myself like a child into the arms of the heavenly Father and trust I will not perish. O my Jesus, how prone I am to evil, and this forces me to be constantly vigilant. But I do not lose heart. I trust God’s grace, which abounds in the worst misery.

Expectations, most often of myself, are the bane of my existence. It’s a constant battle.

I win when I do not fall victim to myself. When I hold out till dawn, And all the demons slip away into shadows. This battle is constant, And I fear one day I may lose, but that day is not today.

want to love him but I often find myself wishing he could just be an asshole all the time. This way I wouldn’t have all these inner battles with myself. I learn to navigate my way through shattered expectations and constant disappointments by putting an impenetrable wall up between us. Every time I let my guard down, I’m quickly reminded why my defenses were up in the first place. It’s nearly impossible for me to flourish in an inconsistent hostile environment, especially when my own growth is so intertwined with his. I’m forced to face the unsettling reality that the people who are supposed to protect us are sometimes the same people we need protection from. I slowly begin to scrub away at my femininity, which has proved to be unsustainable in this environment. “Man up! Don’t be a pussy!” my dad shouts at me as I cry. I have to be tougher. I have to be more independent. I have to be resilient. I have to be more like him.

Every single smile, every word, every touch that you gave him freely made me see and bleed red. It was a constant battle inside my head to not care, to not stare and not have you all to myself.

I want to love him but I often find myself wishing he could just be an asshole all the time. This way I wouldn’t have all these inner battles with myself. I learn to navigate my way through shattered expectations and constant disappointments by putting an impenetrable wall up between us. Every time I let my guard down, I’m quickly reminded why my defenses were up in the first place. It’s nearly impossible for me to flourish in an inconsistent hostile environment, especially when my own growth is so intertwined with his. I’m forced to face the unsettling reality that the people who are supposed to protect us are sometimes the same people we need protection from. I

**A Testament to Resilience: Embracing Challenges and Shining Bright** Life's challenges attempt to bring me down, a constant barrage of adversity designed to disrupt my inner peace and diminish my spirit. These are the enemies' traps, the insidious efforts to cast shadows upon my path and, ultimately, to dim the light within. But I stand defiant, ready to fight back. Within me, a powerful force stirs, an unwavering current of encouragement that propels me forward, urging me to confront the trials that inevitably arise. I remain grounded, no matter the obstacles, my roots firmly planted in self-belief and a fervent desire to shine brightly. These challenges, like shadows, may loom large, casting doubt and fear. They might manifest as insidious whispers of self-doubt, as setbacks that impede my endeavors, or as external pressures that seek to diminish my spirit and break my resolve. They can be found in the sting of criticism, the sting of loss, or the daunting weight of failure. Yet, within me resides an unwavering resilience, a core of strength that refuses to be extinguished. This inner force is fueled by self-belief, a deep-seated conviction in my capabilities and potential. It whispers encouragement when I falter, urging me to rise again, dusting myself off and readying for the next battle. It empowers me to face each obstacle with courage and determination, knowing that every challenge overcome makes me stronger, more capable, and more resolute. Through the storms, I maintain my equilibrium, my feet firmly planted on the ground. I refuse to be swept away by negativity or discouragement, those treacherous currents that would pull me under. Instead, I choose to learn from every experience, to adapt, to evolve, and to grow. I see each setback not as a defeat, but as a lesson, a stepping stone on the path to greater understanding and mastery. My spirit, like a radiant star, persists in shining. I embrace every opportunity to illuminate the world around me, whether through acts of kindness, pursuing my passions with unwavering fervor, or simply sharing my authentic self with those I encounter. I strive to radiate positivity, inspiring others to find their own inner strength, to recognize their own capacity for resilience, and to fearlessly pursue their own dreams. My journey is not always easy. There will be valleys and mountains. There will be days when the shadows seem to overwhelm the light. But I am steadfast in my commitment to growth, to resilience, and to the unwavering belief in my own brilliance. I am a testament to the enduring human spirit, a beacon of hope, and a warrior who continues to fight and shine.