Quotes About Resilience

Laura was not a lonely teenaged girl anymore. She was fifty-five years old. She was a mother, a cancer survivor, a businesswoman. This was her life, Not Nick

Paul looked at the man for the first time since he'd walked through the door. "Should I go punch him in the nose?" "Yes." "Will you take me to the hospital when he punches me back?" "Yes." Paul smiled, but only because she was smiling, too. "So, how does it feel to be untethered?

What a rapist takes from a woman is her future. The person she is going to become, who she is supposed to be, is gone. In many ways, it's worse than murder, because he has killed that potential person, eradicated that potential life, yet she still lives and breathes, and has to figure out another way to thrive.

Will's scars were both emotional and physical. He didn't trust people - at least not enough. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth. Actually, getting him to talk about anything of true importance was like pulling the Titanic through quicksand. With a shoestring.

It wasn't enough for Julia to be taken away from the family. All the good things about her had to be taken away, too.

There are good days and bad days, and as long as there aren't too many of either, you get along with your life fine.

Claire knew full well from the videos that there were things a man could do to a woman that didn't kill her, but made her wish she was dead.

It was like she was standing on the beach in the middle of a hurricane.

Claire lunged toward her desk. She opened the drawer. Lydia's file was still hidden inside. Claire's relief was so pronounced that she wanted to cry. She touched her fingers to her cheek. She was crying. Her tear ducts were on constant standby for anything that would send them over. Instead of giving in to it, Claire shut the drawer. She wiped her eyes. She stood up. She straightened her shirt as she made her way to the kitchen.

children sometimes, where, as a form of self-defense, they've learned to read mood and nuance better than the typical child. They absorb an incredible amount of blame to keep the peace. They are the ultimate survivors." Faith

For some reason, he still felt (the same), like (incident) had happened to another (name), his mind going there while his body stayed on the outside, not aging, waiting for him to come back and claim it.

Maybe that's why Claire had perfected the art of invisibility. It was a form of self-preservation. You couldn't resent what you could not see. She was so quiet, but she noticed everything. Her eyes tracked the world like it was a book written in a language she could not understand. There was nothing timorous about her, but you got the feeling that she always had one foot out the door. If the situation got too hard, or too intense, she would simply disappear.

Charlie's affable countenance stood in direct opposition to their mother's line. Her face, even with the bruises, was clearly still beautiful. She had always been so clever in the way that made people laugh rather than recoil. Relentlessly happy, Gamma had said. The kind of person people just like.

the luxury vacations had come as a personal affront to a woman who had survived the Great Depression, a world war, the death of a husband, the loss of two children, and countless other hardships. Claire

sick of floating between disaster points like an amoeba inside a petri dish.

She wanted to talk to the stranger who had kidnapped her son, to beg him to give her her Johnny back. She knew her baby was in there somewhere, and she would not give up.

As much as I want to make it easier for you, I know that it'll never take unless you do it all on your own.

My father is dead. My husband left me. The last few days have been the shittiest days I've had since you were shot and Mama died. I'm sorry I'm not happy and peppy for you, but my give-a-fuck is broken .

I want to feel normal again," she once told me. "Maybe if I pretend I am for long enough, it might actually happen.

She would tell you she gave in to mourning you for too long, let the pity and self-hate drag her into that black pit that I still crawl around in. If she did, her stay there was temporary. Somehow, she managed to wrench a piece of her former self out of the ground. She tells me that the other, miserable half, the chipped-off, cast-off half, still follows at a respectful distance, ready to take over the second she stumbles.

Sara was beginning to understand just how hard it was to be strong for everyone else around you when all you really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and be comforted yourself.

you will eventually reach a point where that tight control you have over every single aspect of your life is going to fail spectacularly. Something is bound to happen. And it might be good, or it might be bad

Lena had never understood people sending flowers to a funeral home, but she finally realized that the flowers were something for the living to enjoy, a reminder that there was still life in the world, that people could go on.

Kids like that didn't live the lives they wanted. They survived the lives they had.