Quotes About Adversity

When a person is understanding of situations, they are more likely to remain in control of their emotions during situations, even when the situations become chaotic.

And what good did it do? Squirrel and other vermin reckoned you hid grain in the ground just to dare them could they find it and dig it out.

Truly the Filipino rises to his finest self during trying times, the more trying the times, the finer the rising. Or it is in times of disaster that the Filipino ceases to be a disaster, thinking of others first before self.

those who soar the highest, fall the hardest. Watch out that you don't take a tumble.

Viata pe pamant e ca un torent. Trebuie sa-l traversezi inot pentru a ajunge pe celalalt mal. Grijile de capatai ale omului de pe pamant sunt de a nu fi purtat de torent. De moda. De noutati. Doar animalele moarte, cadavrele, sunt duse de curent. Trebuie sa tii capul sus daca vrei sa inoti bine.

Muito mais trágico me parece o destino de quem atravessa a vida sem se molhar, como se os efeitos (felizes ou nefastos) escorressem sobre a pele como água sobre as plumas de um pato.

She had some kind of foolish and unreasonable notion that the more doggedly she stood, the more would she placate certain mysterious powers which habitually force us into circumstances and situations we hate and abhor.

And now if they should break or you should fall, you might faint for a year or two. If that happens, your local system takes over: that's the pack on your back.

What's the bravest thing you ever did? He spat in the road a bloody phlegm. Getting up this morning, he said.

You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.

What's the bravest thing you ever did? He spat in the road a bloody phlegm. Getting up this morning, he said.

and the poor slob soon became a lame duck.

Women were different, no doubt about it. Men broke so much more quickly. Grief didn't break women. Instead it wore them down, it hollowed them out very slowly.

Sergeant Donald Gardner of the 47th and his men were dumped into the water about fifty yards from shore. They lost all of their equipment and had to swim in under machine-gun fire. As they struggled in the water, Gardner heard someone say, "Perhaps we're intruding, this seems to be a private beach.

Take it easy," he jeered, "relax. I used to be a sailor. You'll never get out of them knots, buddy.

Thank you," Betsie went on serenely, "for the fleas and for-" The fleas! This was too much. "Betsie, there's no way even God can make me grateful for a flea." "Give thanks in all circumstances," she quoted. "It doesn't say, 'in pleasant circumstances.' Fleas are part of this place where God has put us." And so we stood between piers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong.

Give thanks in all circumstances,'" she quoted. "It doesn't say, 'in pleasant circumstances.' Fleas are part of this place where God has put us." And so we stood between piers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong.

Betsie, no hay ningún modo de que ni siquiera el mismo Dios pueda hacerme sentir agradecimiento por una pulga. —«Dad gracias por todo» –citó–. No dice «en circunstancias agradables». Y las pulgas forman parte de este lugar donde Dios nos ha puesto.

We knew that in spite of daily mounting risks we had no choice but to move forward. This was evil's hour: we could not run away from it. Perhaps only when human effort had done its best and failed, would God's power alone be free to work.

He stamped on his cigar stub in the ashtray beside the radio and with it, it seemed, the anger too, for his voice grew gentle again. "Oh, my dears, I am sorry for all Dutchmen now who do not know the power of God. For we will be beaten. But He will not.

But I am in prison, dear lady from Haarlem, a prison stronger than this one.

It was a fact. We knew it, we experienced it minute by minute—poor, hated, hungry. We are more than conquerors. Not "we shall be." We are! Life in Ravensbruck took place on two separate levels, mutually impossible. One, the observable, external life, grew every day more horrible. The other, the life we lived with God, grew daily better, truth upon truth, glory upon glory.

At last she pointed to a second tier in the center of a large block. To reach it we had to stand on the bottom level, haul ourselves up, and then crawl across three other straw-covered platforms to reach the one that we would share with—how many?

And now I'm wondering, is this what happens with MS? Does it just become a sequence of demolition to the body? Like a pattern of dating the wrong guys, slowly breaking you down until you're a shell of your old existence?