102quotes

Quotes about starvation

Starvation is a profound and often haunting topic that delves into the depths of human experience and survival. It represents not just the physical absence of food, but also the emotional and psychological struggles that accompany such deprivation. This theme resonates deeply with people because it touches on the universal need for sustenance and the stark reality of scarcity that many face around the world. Quotes about starvation often capture the raw essence of human endurance, resilience, and the stark contrasts between abundance and need. They serve as poignant reminders of the fragility of life and the importance of empathy and action in addressing global hunger. People are drawn to these quotes because they evoke a sense of urgency and compassion, prompting reflection on our shared humanity and the moral imperative to support those in need. In exploring the words and thoughts surrounding starvation, we gain insight into the broader social and economic issues that contribute to this crisis, while also finding inspiration in the stories of those who have overcome such adversity.

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Death by starvation is slow.
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Keeping your mouth shut whilst eating shit will get you far in life but your soul will die of starvation.
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First she starved herself of love, which meant also life; then of poetry in deference to what she thought her religion demanded.
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Even the birds in the windless sky have dwindled in unacceptable number as starvation allegedly plays a major role in curbing their multitude.
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As Pa speaks, I know he thinks someone in our family has stolen the rice. The story of the rat is not true and everyone knows it. Convinced that he realises it was me, I hide my eyes from him. Shame burns my hand like a hot iron branding me for all to see; Pa's favourite child stole from the family. As if to rescue me,Geak wakes up and her screams of hunger interrupt the incident.
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You would sell your own people?" the captain asked, not sounding surprised."Better a life of servitude than death by starvation.
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One of the most oft-quoted records of the siege, scribbled in pencil over the pages of a pocket address book, is that kept by twelve-year-old Tanya Savicheva: 28 December 1941 at 12.30 a.m. – Zhenya died. 25 January 1942 at 3 p.m. – Granny died. 17 March at 5 a.m. – Lyoka died. 13 April at 2 a.m. – Uncle Vasya died. 10 May at 4 p.m. – Uncle Lyosha died. 13 May at 7.30 a.m. – Mama died. The Savichevs are dead. Everyone is dead. Only Tanya is left.
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A couple of ounces ruled your life.
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That bowl of soup—it was dearer than freedom, dearer than life itself, past, present, and future.
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It was the usual story of penniless young men, who think themselves obliged by their birth to choose a liberal profession and bury themselves in a sort of vain mediocrity, happy even when they escape starvation, notwithstanding their numerous degrees.
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