Quotes About Adversity

God always makes room for those special souls who have graduated from the University of Adversity. Shouldn't we? — Dixie Phillips

Love is faithful in the face of difficult circumstances. — Dorcas Annette Walker —

There are valuable life lessons that only failure can teach your child.

circumstances. — Katherine A. Fuller —

So you want to tell me what a sixth grader was doing in the eighth-grade side of the locker room, in a eighth-grade fight? he said. Winning, I said.

In a real situation, like when I was here before, there were things wrong—going wrong. The plane didn't land and set me on the shore. It crashed. A man was dead. I was hurt. I didn't know anything. Nothing at all. I was, maybe, close to death and now we're out here going la-de-da, I've got a fish; la-de-da, there are some more berries.

He was out of food, but he could look tomorrow and he could build a signal fire tomorrow and get more wood tomorrow . . . The

He could not play the game without hope; could not play the game without a dream. They had taken it all away from him now, they had turned away from him and there was nothing for him now. The plane gone, his family gone, all of it gone. They would not come. He was alone and there was nothing for him.

Simple. Keep it simple. I am Brian Robeson. I have been in a plane crash. I am going to find some food. I am going to find some berries. He

Simple. Keep it simple. I am Brian Robeson. I have been in a plane crash. I am going to find some food. I am going to find some berries.

It stopped him, the idea of giving thanks. At first his mind just stopped and he thought, for what? For the plane crash, for being here? I should thank somebody for that? Then a small voice, almost a whisper, came into his mind and all it said was: It could have been worse; you could have been down in the plane with the pilot. And

He could not play the game without hope; could not play the game without a dream. They had taken it all away from him now, they had turned away from him and there was nothing for him now. The plane gone, his family gone, all of it

most important rule of survival, which was that feeling sorry for yourself didn't work.

In measured time forty-seven days had passed since the crash. Forty-two days, he thought, since he had died and been born as the new Brian.

The hatchet. The key to it all. Nothing without the hatchet. Just that would take all his thanks. And

He did not know how long it took, but later he looked back on this time of crying in the corner of the dark cave and thought of it as when he learned the most important rule of survival, which was that feeling sorry for yourself didn't work.

There. I've poked my leg, rolled down a bank and been hit in the head with the canoe. All simple things. All fixable things.

Of course, the sea has tried to kill me on several occasions, has timed itself to coincide with my stupidity and put an end to me. Here in this beautiful lagoon, with time to think of things, and with serenity, some of the madness comes back to me now as I attempt the death-defying feat of eating a second Oreo with my tea.

The mosquitoes. Tearing at him, clouds of them, the awful, ripping, thick masses of the small monsters trying to bleed him dry.

I fell off a dogsled down a frozen waterfall and landed on sharp ice on a kneecap. It was so agonizing, I thought, seriously, that my heart would stop. But I found that my whole dog team loved and worried about me so much, they curved downstream and worked back up to me to surround me as I lay clutching my lacerated knee, whimpering and pushing their warm bodies against me. I remember the love, the dog love, much more than the shattered knee. . . .

Just as bad things could snowball, Brian found that good things could come fast as well.

could not play the game without hope; could not play the game without a dream. They had taken it all away from him now, they had turned away from him and there was nothing for him now. The plane gone, his family gone, all of it gone. They would not come. He was alone and there was nothing for him.

But life has a way of pulling the rug out from under you just when you need it least, which is what they like to call growing, I guess, but as far as I'm concerned you can have it. It seems like everything they call growing up has to jerk your guts out and just about wreck you and I've never been able to understand why that's supposed to be good for you.

In measured time forty-seven days had passed since the crash. Forty-two days, he thought, since he had died and been born as the new Brian. When the plane had come and gone it had put him down, gutted him and dropped him and left him with nothing.