Some of the greatest battles will be fought within the silent chambers of your own soul.
One ever feels his twoness - an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend, - Or the most agonizing Spy - An Enemy - could send -
Every fight is personal, but with myself.
The problem with battling yourself is that even if you win, you lose.
And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.
If you don’t have a struggle inside or around you, you have to make one up.
All through the night, she battled herself. Or battled to know herself. She fell apart and then put herself back together and then she fell apart again and put herself back together, over and over.
From this time forth My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
