Quotes About Resilience

How do we build root systems capable of weathering every storm that seeks to draw us into the temporary and the profane?

Ni se pare de la sine înÈ›eles c? nenorocirea È™i eÈ™ecul nasc cinism. ?i avem impresia c? puterea È™i frumuseÈ›ea aduc împlinire.

You have to know how to accept rejection and reject acceptance.

I have two rules in life - to hell with it, whatever it is, and get your work done.

That's the wonderful thing about man; he never gets so discouraged or disgusted that he gives up doing it all over again, because he knows very well it is important and WORTH the doing.

Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the pieces together.

Too late, I found you can't wait to become perfect, you got to go out and fall down and get up with everybody else.

The ability to fantasize is the ability to survive. It's wonderful to speak about this subject because there have been so many wrong-headed people dealing with it.... The so-called realists are trying to drive us insane, and I refuse to be driven insane.... We survive by fantasizing. Take that away from us and the whole damned human race goes down the drain.

I have three rules to live by: Get your work done. If that doesn't work, shut up and drink your gin, and when all else fails, run like hell.

Ask for no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping it's life away. To hell with that, he said, shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass.

I'll be damned if death wears my sadness as glad rags. 

War's never a winning thing, Charlie. You just lose all the time, and the one who loses last asks for terms. All I remember is a lot of losing and sadness and nothing good but the end of it. The end of it, Charles, that was a winning all to itself, having nothing to do with guns. But I don't suppose that's the kind of victory you boys mean for me to talk on.

How many times can a man go down and still be alive?

Some boys walk by and you cry, seeing them. They feel good, they look good, they are good. Oh, they're not above peeing off a bridge, or stealing an occasional dime-store pencil sharpener; it's not that. It's just, you know, seeing them pass, that's how they'll be all their life; they'll get hit, hurt, cut, bruised, and always wonder why, why does it happen? how can it happen to them?

Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.

She wanted to get at the hate of them all, to pry at it and work at it until she found a little chink, and then pull out a pebble or a stone or a brick and then a part of the wall, and, once started, the whole edifice might roar down and be done away with.

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer.

You had to run with a night like this, so the sadness could not hurt.

But that's the wonderful thing about man; he never gets so discouraged or disgusted that he gives up doing it all over again, because he knows very well it is important and worth the doing.

If teachers and grammar school editors find my jawbreaker sentences shatter their mushmilk teeth, let them eat stale cake dunked in weak tea of their own ungodly manufacture.

if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore

Evil has only the power that we give it. I give you nothing. I take back. Starve. Starve. Starve.

I thought you could beat, pummel, and thrash an idea into existence. Under such treatment, of course, any decent idea folds up its paws, turns on its back, fixes its eyes on eternity, and dies.

Yell. Jump. Play. Out-run those sons-of-bitches. They'll never live the way you live. Go do it.