Quotes About Resilience

Üzerinden çok uzun zaman geçti; ama geçmiÅŸ için söylenenler yanl??. Ben onun nas?l gömüleceÄŸini öÄŸrendim. Her ne kadar geçmiÅŸ pençeleriyle kendine bir ç?k?? yolu açmay? becerse de.

Laila sees something behind this young girl's eyes, something deep in her core, that neither Rasheed nor the Taliban will be able to break. something as hard and unyielding as a block of limestone. Something that, in the end, will be her undoing and Laila's salvation.

She thought of Aziza's stutter, and of what Aziza had said earlier about fractures and powerful collisions deep down and how sometimes all we see on the surface is a slight tremor.

Katakan padanya, biar seribu peluru menembus tubuhku, aku tetap tidak akan membiarkan perilaku tidak senonohnya.

But, miraculously, something of her former life remained, her last link to the person she had been before she had become so utterly alone. A part of Tariq still alive inside her, sprouting tiny arms, growing translucent hands.

Joseph shall return to Canaan, grieve not, Hovels shall turn to rose gardens, grieve not. If a flood should arrive, to drown all that's alive, Noah is your guide in the typhoon's eye, grieve not.

Kabul is . . ." Idris searches for the right words. "A thousand tragedies per square mile.

Though there had been moments of beauty in it, Mariam knew that life for the most part had been unkind to her. But as she walked the final twenty paces, she could not help but wish for more of it.

Zendagi migzara," he said. Life goes on.

You know a bomb crater can be made into a swimming hole. You have learned dark blood is better news than bright.

Me ardía la cara. Ahí estaba de nuevo mi pasado; mi pasado era así, siempre volvía a aparecer. Su nombre surgía desde lo más profundo de mi ser, pero no quería pronunciarlo por temor a que se materializara.

Kami meninggalkan mayat-mayat itu di jalan, dan kalau keluarga mereka mencoba menyelinap untuk menyeret kembali mayat-mayat itu ke rumah mereka, kami tak akan ragu menembak mereka. Kami membiarkan mayat-mayat itu menjadi santapan anjing. Daging anjing hanya cocok untuk anjing.

There is only one, only one skill a woman like you and me needs in life, and they don't teach it in school . . . Only one skill. And it's this: tahamul. Endure.

One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls. Laila

Darah memiliki kekuatan, jangan pernah lupakan itu.

Seperti dalam perang mana pun, kami harus mempersiapkan diri untuk bertempur.

Blood is a powerful thing, bachem, never forget that.

She said this in a pragmatic, almost indifferent, tone, and Mariam understood that this was a woman far past outrage. Here was a woman, she thought, who had understood that she was lucky to even be working, that there was always something, something else, that they could take away.

marveling at how every Afghan story is marked by death and loss and unimaginable grief.

that each snowflake was a sigh heaved by an aggrieved woman somewhere in the world. That all the sighs drifted up the sky, gathered into clouds, then broke into tiny pieces that fell silently on the people below. As a reminder of how women like us suffer. How quietly we endure all that falls upon us.

N-are rost sa te plangi de ceea ce este inevitabil.

Em poucos anos, essa menina vai ser uma mulher que pede muito pouco da vida , que nunca incomoda ninguém, nunca deixa transparecer que ela também tem tristezas, desapontamentos, sonhos que foram menosprezados. Uma mulher que vai ser como uma rocha no leito de um rio, suportando tudo sem se queixar. Uma mulher cuja generosidade, longe de ser contaminada, foi forjada pelas turbulências que se abateram sobre ela.

but, for a moment, standing there with Tariq in the sunlight, it was as though those years had never happened. Her parents' deaths, her marriage to Rasheed, the killings, the rockets, the Taliban, the beatings, the hunger, ever her children, all of it seemed like a dream, a bizarre detour, a mere interlude between that last afternoon together and this moment.

8- I walk in dusty sunsets through streets lined with graffiti-stained walls, past tin-shed stalls packed tightly against one another, crossing paths with little girls carrying basketfuls of raw dung on their heads women covered in black soot boiling rags in huge aluminum vats.