Quotes About Resilience

Cut this tree I'm living in down. Hollow its trunk out. Make me all over again, with what you scooped out of its insides. Slide the new me back inside the old trunk. Burn me. Burn the tree. Spread the ashes, for luck, where you want next year's crops to grow. Birth me and the tree Next summer's sun Midwinter guarantee

So always risk your skin, she said, and never fear losing it, cause it always does some good one way or another when the powers that be deign to take it off us.

When the state is not kind, then the people are fodder.

their nineteen-sixties with the flowers in the guns and their summers of love, as if all we'd had was winter, all we'd had was rations. Just very good at keeping quiet, is what we were. We had to be. It was the way. Them with their jet-age.

be ready to be above and beyond the foul even when we're up to our eyes in it.

The slightness of it gestures against the odds. It is like a magic spell.

The still-alives. They were all crazy.

Hope is exactly that, that's all it is, a matter of how we deal with the negative acts towards human beings by other human beings in the world, remembering that they and we are all human, that nothing human is alien to us, the foul and the fair, and that most important of all we're here for a mere blink of the eyes, that's all.

I'm rubble too, he thinks. Just in a different form. The whole world and all its people. Rubble.

She is not a girl. She is a block of stone. She is a piece of wall. She is something against which other things impact without her permission or understanding.

L'amore se ne infischia del soldo, l'amore è più caldo del caldo. Che sia vinta la guerra o sia persa, è l'amore che il mondo attraversa. L'amore non fa rima né ha ragioni, l'amore rende pazzo chi lo ha. L'amore sopravvive alle stagioni […]. L'amore vince i giochi, ogni contesa, che scoppi sulla terra o dentro al mare. Nessuna risorsa è meglio spesa, di quelle bruciate per amare.

You can't stop change, the man says. It comes of necessity. You have to go with it and make something of what it makes of you.

Kärleken var död. Döden var död. En hel massa saker var döda. Vissa, däremot, var det inte, eller i alla fall inte än.

Ell somriu. Es una noia amable, encantadora i intel·ligent, tot i que ja no és tan espavilada com quan era petita. Això, de vegades, l'entristeix. Fa una mena de feina que se li menja l'esperit. Està molt sola. Això segur. És com observar com es va erosionant.

Simt cum ceva creÈ™te în mine, la fel de mare ca È™i b?rb??ia lui. Este mânie.

There's ways to survive these times, Doubleclick, and I think one way is the shape the telling takes.

There's ways to survive these times, Doubledick, and I think one way is the shape the telling takes

Never mind literal climate change, there's been a whole seasonal shift. It's like walking in a blizzard all the time just trying to get to what's really happening beyond the noise and hype.

Cut this tree I'm living in down. Hollow its trunk out. Make me all over again, with what you scooped out of its insides. Slide the new me back inside the old trunk. Burn me. Burn the tree. Spread the ashes, for luck, where you want next year's crops to grow. Birth me all over again Burn me and the tree Next summer's sun Midwinter guarantee

it was a thing that has to fall to rise …

across the aeons and the global distances what all the peoples of the world really have in common is so many similar ways of doing humiliating and painful things to each other.

I hear them. But am I going to let it stop me reading?

And on that night, when all he's ever known in the past couple of years started to break apart, he did not try so desperately to keep her muse. He didn't need to. He also did not soak up in bottles of rum. Instead, he went home. He went home and painted. Because before any of this has ever happened, he was a painter.

Not whole thing works as configured. Not everyone acts as trained.