I'm still a little bent, a little crooked, but all things considered, I can't complain.
The future rewards those who press on. I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. I don't have time to complain. I'm going to press on.
Do not quarrel. . . with your lot in life. Do not complain of its never-ceasing cares, its petty environment, the vexations you have to stand, the small and sordid souls you have to live and work with.
Some people complain that they will not live forever, but cannot think of things to do on a wet Sunday afternoon.
Most women who are harassed don't come forward, they don't complain because they're skeptical of the process, or they don't think anything is going to come of it if they are found to have been harassed. We know from some very public cases that sexual assault isn't always punished even by the courts in the way that they should be. So, we have got to figure out, how are we going to embed women's experiences in the processes, so that they trust the processes, that there are fair investigations that get to the truth, and then there is appropriate punishment when abuse occurs?
Ah, did we but rightly understand what the demerit of sin is, we would rather admire the bounty of God than complain of the straithandedness of Providence. And if we did but consider that there lies upon God no obligation of justice or gratitud to reward any of our duties, it would cure our murmurs (Gen. 32:10).