Quotes About Adversity

Maybe that's what people did, bounced back where they were supposed to be, bumps or not.

Demons don't die, Eve, we just learn to live with them.

I've seen her face death, her own and others'. I've seen her face the misery and fears of her past and the shadows that cover pieces of it. I've seen her terrified of her own feelings. But she stood. She gathered herself and stood up to it. And this, this departmental procedure, has destroyed her.

maybe Reineke would've survived the blast—then he'd never have gotten over surviving it

I've got a tip." "Me, too. Let a smile be your umbrella and you're gonna get your dumb ass wet.

Overcoming and getting over are two very different things.

himself first and last. He'd had to, in order to survive and then to succeed. One was every bit as important to him as the other. The habit was difficult to

called This

So it has come, the day of testing. Without warning, without fanfare, it is here, and he is in the middle of it. In his chest his heart hammers so hard that it too, in its dumb way, must know. How will they stand up to the testing, he and his heart?

Fate deals you a hand, and you play the hand you are dealt. You do not whine, you do not complain. That, he used to believe, was his philosophy. Why then can he not resist these plunges into darkness?

No papers, no money; no family, no friends, no sense of who you are. The obscurest of the obscure, so obscure as to be a prodigy.

No one beats me, no one starves me, no one spits on me. How can I regard myself as a victim of prosecution when my sufferings are so petty? Yet they are all the more degrading for their pettiness.

It was no longer a matter of growing a fat crop, only of growing enough for the seed not to die out. There will be another year, he consoled himself, another summer in which to try again.

Whatever does not kill me makes me stronger.

Imagine: to be prepared to yield, to yield, to have nothing more to yield, to be broken, yet to be pressed to yield more!

Flowers grow best on dungheaps, as Shakespeare never tires of saying.

Durante el día empujaba la carreta por la vecindad; por la noche dormía bajo los viaductos, detrás de los setos, en callejones.

that I had in effect given myself up as a prisoner to this war.

The stories they tell will be different from the stories I heard in the camp, because the camp was for those left behind, the women and children, the old men, the blind, the crippled, the idiots, people who have nothing to tell but stories of how they have endured. Whereas these young men have had adventures, victories and defeats and escapes. They will have stories to tell long after the war is over, stories for a lifetime, stories for their grandchildren to listen to open-mouthed.

The shocks of existence: he must learn to take them more lightly.

No, you've got it all wrong, John. Reading his emotions, she shook her head. You're not half the male you could be because of what was done to you. You're twice what anyone else is because you survived.

The essential truth of life, he was coming to realize, wasn't romantic and took only two words to label: Shit. Happens. But the thing was, you kept going. You kept your friends and your family and your mate as safe as you were able. And you kept fighting even after you were knocked down.

After all, tragedy didn't discriminate, so everyone was subject to the same whims of fate.

She was glad she didn't know where it would take her. Because sometimes the only thing that got you through hell was that you were in too deep to pull out. [Ehlena]