Quotes About Resilience

I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun.

She had a lot of face and chin. She had pewter-colored hair set in a ruthless permanent, a hard beak and moist eyes with the sympathetic expression of wet stones.

She put a hard-boiled sneer on her face and gave me plenty of time to get used to it

Her whole body shivered and her face fell apart like a bride's pie crust. She put it together again slowly, as if lifting a great weight, by sheer will power. The smile came back, with a couple of corners badly bent.

It was a nice face, a face you get to like. Pretty, but not so pretty that you would have to wear brass knuckles every time you took it out.

Then there were no more houses, just the burnt foothills and the cement ribbon and a sheer drop on the left into the coolness of a nameless canyon, and on the right heat bouncing off the seared clay bank at whose edge a few unbeatable wild flowers clawed and hung on like naughty children who won't go to bed.

If I wasn't hard, I wouldn't be alive. If I couldn't ever be gentle, I wouldn't deserve to be alive.

That's the difference between a champ and a knife thrower. The champ may have lost his stuff temporarily or permanently, he can't be sure. But when he can no longer throw the high hard one, he throws his heart instead. He throws something. He doesn't just walk off the mound and weep.

A few locks of dry white hair clung to his scalp, like wild flowers fighting for life on a bare rock.

But down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.

I'm a weak character, without guts or ambition. I caught the brass ring and it shocked me to find out it wasn't gold. A guy like me has one big moment in his life, one perfect swing on the high trapeze. Then he spends the rest of his time trying not to fall off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The muzzle of the Luger looked like the mouth of the Second Street tunnel, but I didn't move. Not being bullet proof is an idea I had had to get used to.

Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid....He must be the best man in his world, and a good enough man for any world. from Raymond Chandler's, The Simple Act of Murder.

Go ahead and faint, I said. I'll catch you on the first bounce.

down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.

down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero

Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid....He must be the best man in his world, and a good enough man for any world. From The Simple Art of Murder

If I wasn't hard, I wouldn't be alive. If I couldn't ever be gentle, I wouldn't deserve to be alive." I

Doctors are just people, born to sorrow, fighting the long grim fight like the rest of us.

And most men can stand what they've got to stand, when it steps up and looks them straight in the eye. Like they're doing all over the world right now.

Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean.

I got up on my feet and went over to the bowl in the corner and threw cold water on my face. After a little wile I felt a little better, but very little. I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room.

Trouble is my business," I said. "How else would I make a nickel?

He was tough, fast and he ate red meat. Nobody could push him around.