A Quote by Louisa May Alcott

Everybody has their days of misfortune. — © Louisa May Alcott
Everybody has their days of misfortune.
Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day. Not today. Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody dies at all. Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call, everybody lives.
What a misfortune to be a woman! And yet, the worst misfortune is not to understand what a misfortune it is.
There's days when I'd love everybody to relize that things have gone too far, and we need to be born again...but there are other days when I think the world deserves to be destroyed. Why should I help anybody? Everybody's stepped on me my whole life.
Everybody hurts some days. It's okay to be afraid. Everybody hurts, everybody screams. Everybody feels this way.
Moreover, nothing is so rare as to see misfortune fairly portrayed; the tendency is either to treat the unfortunate person as though catastrophe were his natural vocation, or to ignore the effects of misfortune on the soul, to assume, that is, that the soul can suffer and remain unmarked by it, can fail, in fact, to be recast in misfortune's image.
It seems the misfortune of one can plow a deeper furrow in the heart than the misfortune of millions.
To be brave in misfortune is to be worthy of manhood; to be wise in misfortune is to conquer fate.
Misfortune, and recited misfortune especially, can be prolonged to the point where it ceases to excite pity and arouses only irritation.
Misery and misfortune is all one; and of misfortune fortune hath only the gift.
A man is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you'd think misfortune would get tired but then time is your misfortune
The greatest misfortune of all is not to be able to bear misfortune.
Everybody has their good days and their bad days, there's always two sides to a story.
Thus we see that the lot of the duck hunter is not a happy one. He is the child of frustration, the collector of mishap, the victim of misfortune. He suffers from cold and wet and lack of sleep. He is punished more often than rewarded. Yet he continues. Why? Because one great day-- and great days do come, days when the ducks are willing and the gun swings true-- repays him many fold for all the others.
Practically everybody is suing everybody else these days.
Everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days.
The weather and my mood have little connection. I have my foggy and my fine days within me; my prosperity or misfortune has little to do with the matter.
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