Quotes About Adversity

Every day,' she told him, 'you have to decide how to fail, and make the best of it.' At the time, he'd found it cynical. Now he honestly found it helpful — if for no other reason than he knew it was normal and he knew he wasn't alone.

It's not meant to be comfortable," Cly told him. He pushed at the captain's chair, which had been furnished with a leather pad in the shape of a cushion. It looked approximately as soft as an old book. Fang

Yes, bad things happened to you—really bad things. But you survived them! Now that chapter's closed, and you can… well, you don't have to forget any of it. You don't have to pretend it never happened. But you've got the whole rest of your life to live, so how are you gonna live it?

amazing how quickly Satan can use what's supposed to be a blessing and a gift from God to derail you into a place where you're thankless for the gift. You focus on what you don't have instead.

Whatever happens to you belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will.

You don't have a right to the cards you believe you should have been dealt with. You have an obligation to play the hell out of the ones you're holding and my dear one, you and I have been granted a mighty generous one.

Nobody's going to do your life for you. You have to do it yourself, whether you're rich or poor, out of money or raking it in, the beneficiary of ridiculous fortune or terrible injustice. And you have to do it no matter what is true. No matter what is hard. No matter what unjust, sad, sucky things befall you. Self-pity is a dead-end road. You make the choice to drive down it. It's up to you to decide to stay parked there or to turn around and drive out.

I made it the mantra of those days; when I paused before yet another series of switchbacks or skidded down knee-jarring slopes, when patches of flesh peeled off my feet along with my socks, when I lay alone and lonely in my tent at night I asked, often out loud: Who is tougher than me? The answer was always the same, and even when I knew absolutely there was no way on this earth that it was true, I said it anyway: No one.

The most terrible and beautiful and interesting things happen in life. For some of you, those things have already happened. Whatever happens to you belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will.

I would want things to be different than they were. The wanting was a wilderness and I had to find my own way out of the woods.

Healing is a small and ordinary and very burnt thing. And it's one thing and one thing only: it's doing what you have to do.

A terrible thing happened to you, but you mustn't let it define your life.

but thinking about it didn't do a thing. Thinking about it was a long dive into a bucket of shit that didn't have a bottom.

nothing bad could happen to me, I thought. The worst thing already had.

When you recognize that you will thrive not in spite of your losses and sorrows, but because of them, that you would not have chosen the things that happened in your life, but you are grateful for them, that you will hold the empty bowls eternally in your hands, but you also have the capacity to fill them? THE WORD FOR THAT IS HEALING.

Run toward the darkness, sweet peas, and shine.

There are stories you'll learn if you're strong enough to travel there. One of them might cure you.

Don't worry about it too much. You're green, but you're tough. And tough is what matters the most out here. Not just anyone could do what you're doing.

The PCT had gotten easier for me, but that was different from it getting easy.

The particularity of our problems can be made bearable only through the recognition of our universal humanity. We suffer uniquely, but we survive the same way.

Within forty minutes, the voice inside my head was screaming, WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO? I tried to ignore it, to hum as I hiked, though humming proved too difficult to do while also panting and moaning in agony and trying to remain hunched in that remotely upright position while also propelling myself forward when I felt like a building with legs.

I knew that if I allowed fear to over take me, my journey was doomed.

I will never go home, I thought with a finality that made me catch my breath, and then I walked on, my mind emptying into nothing but the effort to push my body to the bald monotony of the hike. There wasn't a day on the trail when that monotony didn't ultimately win out, when the only thing to think about was whatever was the physically hardest. It was a sort of scorching cure.

saw the power of the darkness. Saw that, in fact, I had strayed and that I was a stray and that from the wild places my straying had brought me, I knew things I couldn't have known before.