Quotes About Persistence

The principal part of faith is patience.

If I were going uphill, I was relatively happy since I would sooner or later be going downhill. Whereas, if I were going downhill, I wasn't all that happy because I knew I would eventually have to be going uphill.

No, I was never one of those positive people who believes he can have whatever he sets his sights on. I just kept working at it.

Even a man who had survived a hundred battle can break in his hundred-and-first.

Me, I only try. I'm not one like Moses, or Solon—or, or—Lycurgus.

What do we say to the Lord of Death?' 'Not today.

I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. Don't tell me to leave.

The storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling. (Varys)

If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells." --Prince Oberyn of Dorne.

Too stupid to learn and too stupid to give up.

No fight is hopeless till it has been fought.

She walked fast, to keep ahead of her fear, and it felt as though Syrio Forel walked beside her, and Yoren, and Jaqen H'ghar, and Jon Snow.

I have climbed these steps so often I know each one by name.

If? The word is when.

One foe at a time, that was what the old man always said.

The waves may break upon the mountain, yet still they come, wave upon wave, and in the end only pebbles remain where once the mountain stood. And soon even the pebbles are swept away, to be ground beneath the sea for all eternity.

I was a lot better at starting stories than I was at finishing them.

Faith is like porridge. Better with milk and honey.

The worst ones always live.

Sobbing, Sam took another step. This is the last one, the very last, I can't go on, I can't. But his feet moved again. One and then the other. They took a step, and then another, and he thought, They're not my feet, they're someone else's, someone else is walking, it can't be me.

Sometimes it seemed as though he'd thumped his head on half the doors in Westeros, not to mention every beam in every inn from Dorne up to the Neck.

He who kneels may rise again, blade in hand. He who will not kneel stays dead, stiff legs and all.

He was a bee in a stone honeycomb, and someone had cut off his wings.

The path of faith was a crooked one.