Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions. When they are done, we recognize one thing: that the human race has been badly manhandled, but that it has moved forward.

A forza d'uscire per recarsi a sognare, viene il giorno in cui si esce per andarsi ad annegare.

what can man do in hell, they sang; for song lingers where there is no longer any hope.

People who are overwhelmed with troubles never do look back. They know only too well that misfortune follows in their footsteps.

It is the same with wretchedness as with everything else. It ends by becoming bearable.

Supreme resources spring from extreme resolutions. To embark in death is sometimes the means of escaping a shipwreck; and the lid of the coffin becomes a plank of safety.

That I may carry on what I have begun, that I may do good, that I may be one day a grand and encouraging example that it may be said that there was finally some little happiness resulting from this suffering which I have undergone and this virtue to which I have returned!

Hope in a child who has never known anything but despair is a sweet and touching thing.

It was no summer progress. A cold coming they had of it, at this time of the year; just, the worst time of the year, to take a journey, and specially a long journey, in. The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off in solstitio brumali, the very dead of Winter.

Last we consider the time of their coming, the season of the year. It was no summer progress. A cold coming they had of it at this time of the year, just the worst time of the year to take a journey, and specially a long journey. The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off, in solsitio brumali, 'the very dead of winter

Without failure there is no sweetness in success. There's no understanding of it.

She found value in conflict, no matter what. "The purpose of ass-kicking is not that your ass gets kicked at the right time or for the right reason," she often explained. "It's to keep your ass sensitive.