A Quote by Nikki Haley

As I said, my parents loved that when they came to America, if you worked hard, the only things that could stop you were the limits you placed on yourself. — © Nikki Haley
As I said, my parents loved that when they came to America, if you worked hard, the only things that could stop you were the limits you placed on yourself.
My parents worked super hard when they came to America. They had three jobs each. I didn't really see them that much.
Both of my parents were born into poor families on the island of Cuba. They came to America because it was the only place where people like them could have a chance.
I came to America, and I made good. It's an old story, but it hasn't been told in a long time. Usually, it's, 'I'm an immigrant, I came here and got persecuted.' My story is I came here, I worked hard, and it worked out all right. So it's still available.
For my parents it was all about getting a deal, my dad came to America and he heard of this concept of brunch. He didn't quite know what it was. And he thought it was this other meal that existed between breakfast and lunch. He was kind of like - I remember he sort of was like America has so much food that between breakfast and lunch they have to stop and eat again. They have brunch. It was completely legal it was, like, a legal meal that you could have. I mean, clearly it wasn't the only reason he came to America, but I think it certainly sweetened the pot for him.
My parents are hard workers and they showed me what it means to work hard. I would give a lot of the credit to my parents for where I'm at and who I am. They both worked multiple jobs to make sure me and my siblings were able to play sports and have a home. I'll never forget how hard they worked and that always motivates me.
When my generation grew up, our only sources of knowledge were books, teachers, parents and friends. The encyclopedia was an item of luxury. We faced big limits in what we could learn, where we could be and who we could reach.
I worked very hard. I felt I could play the game. The only thing that could stop me was myself.
Most Italians who came to this country are very patriotic. There was this exciting possibility that if you worked real hard, and you loved something, you could become successful.
When I was about five or seven years old my mother was placed in a mental institution and so we were with our father who worked very hard, and we had to figure a lot of things out.
All my jobs have been with food in one way or another since 1948. My parents were in the hotel business, and I just loved the warm hearted people who worked so hard with such good humor.
My parents both worked; I was a 'latchkey kid.' We were lower-middle class, and they did everything that they could to give me anything I wanted, within reason. We were not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but being an adopted kid, I think we had a different connotation. My parents tried extra hard, I think.
Both of my parents were born into poor families on the island of Cuba. They came to America because it was the only place where people like them could have a chance.My father was a bartender. And the journey from the back of that bar to the [election 2016], to me, that is the essence of the American dream.
I remember studying so hard for so long and saying to my parents, 'I will be a teacher.' And they were looking at me like, 'Girl... you just want to be on stage. Stop pretending.' So when I chose to do music, they were relieved. My parents were more intelligent and lucid than I was.
My parents worked very hard for everything that they got. Their parents worked hard. It's just something that is passed down to you, and whatever you want to accomplish, you have to work hard to get it, and that's always been that mentality that my family has, and I think that's something that was passed on to me.
A simple summary of my life is that my parents worked very hard so that I could have a great education, and I took that education and worked very hard to get where I am. I would like my kids' lives to be exactly the same.
My mother could never have said she loved fall, but as she walked down the steps with her suitcase in hand toward the red Monte Carlo her husband had been waiting in for nearly an hour, she could have said that she respected its place as a mediator between two extremes. Fall came and went, while winter was endured and summer was revered. Fall was the repose that made both possible and bearable, and now here she was was with her husband next to her, heading headlong into an early-fall afternoon with only the vaguest ideas of who they were becoming and what came next.
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