Quotes About Resilience

In a few years, this little girl will be a woman who makes small demands on life, who will never burden others, who will never let on that she has had sorrows, disappointment, dreams that have been ridiculed. A woman who will be like a rock in the riverbed, enduring without complaint, her grace not sullied but shaped by the turbulence that washes over her.

Ma gandesc la el acum, necajit si pierdut, clatinandu-se pe picioare prin desert, iar pe poteca din spatele lui se afla toate acele bucati marunte si stralucitoare pe care viata le-a luat de la el.

After all, life is not a Hindi movie. Zendagi migzara, Life goes on, unmindful of beginning, end, kamyab, nah-­Ã¢â'¬Âkam, crisis or catharsis, moving forward like a slow, dusty caravan of kochis.

I'm tired, Pari. You can scold me another time. The whipping post isn't going anywhere.

Kembali ke Kabul bagaikan bertemu kembali dengan seorang teman lama yang telah terlupakan dan mendapatinya hidup menderita, jatuh miskin dan menggelandang.

Con el tiempo he descubierto que lo que dicen del pasado, que es posible enterrarlo, no es cierto. Por que el pasado se abre paso a zarpazos.

Life goes on, unmindful of beginning, end, kamyab, nah-kam, crisis or catharsis, moving forward like a slow, dusty caravan of kochis.

Hanya ada aku dan Homaira melawan seluruh dunia. Dan aku memberitahumu Amir jan. Pada akhirnya, dunia akan selalu menang. Begitulah dunia berjalan.

Zendagi migzara. Life goes on.

If you went from the Shar-e-Nau section to Kerteh-Parwan to buy a carpet, you risked getting shot by a sniper or getting blown up by a rocket—if you got past all the checkpoints, that was. You practically needed a visa to go from one neighborhood to the other. So people just stayed put, prayed the next rocket wouldn't hit their home.

Dia menang, karena pemenang selalu menang dan semua orang lain harus pulang.

That there are bad people in this world, and sometimes bad people stay bad. Sometimes you have to stand up to them.

desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.

marveling at how every Afghan story is marked by death and loss and unimaginable grief. And yet, she sees, people find a way to survive, to go on. Laila thinks of her own life and all that has happened to her, and she is astonished that she too has survived, that she is alive and sitting in this taxi listening to this man's story.

she pushing her.

But, mostly, Mariam is in Laila's own heart, where she shines with the bursting radiance of a thousand suns.

The hallway's walls are covered now with posters, of dinosaurs, cartoon characters, the Buddhas of Bamiyan, and displays of artwork by the orphans. Many of the drawings depict tanks running over huts, men brandishing AK-47s, refugee camp tents, scenes of jihad.

Well, people need stories to divert them at difficult times like this.

His parents were executed in the street. The neighbors saw it. You have death certificates? - Death certificates? This is Afghanistan we're talking about. Most people there don't have birth certificates.

And so Mariam raised the shovel high, raised it as high as she could, arching it so it touched the small of her back. She turned it so the sharp edge was vertical, and, as she did, it occurred to her that this was the first time she was deciding the course of her own life. And, with that, Mariam brought down the shovel. This time, she gave it everything she had.

Then,mercifully darkness.

Ah, a storyteller," the general said. "Well, people need stories to divert them at difficult times like this.

That's how children deal with terror. They fall asleep. I

Later, after Rasheed had dropped them off and taken a bus to work, Laila watched Aziza wave good-bye and scuff along the wall in the orphanage back lot. 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.