Quotes About Resilience

The Linux philosophy is 'Laugh in the face of danger'. Oops. Wrong One. 'Do it yourself'. Yes, that's it.

Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

It does not matter how strong your gravity is, we were always meant to fly.

Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.

Once, poets were magicians. Poets were strong, stronger than warriors or kings — stronger than old hapless gods. And they will be strong once again.

The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.

I've had the wind knocked out of me, but never the hurricane

Poetry will exist as long as there is a problem of life and death

Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.

she stuck a bookmark in my heart and walked away

If I am more alive because love burns and chars me, as a fire, given wood or wind, feels new elation, it's that he who lays me low is my salvation, and invigorates the more, the more he scars me.

Poetry can keep life itself alive. You can endure almost anything as long as you can sing about it.

I died in 1960 from a prison sentence and poetry brought me back to life.

Let our scars fall in love.

Happiness is to take up the struggle in the midst of the raging storm and not to pluck the lute in the moonlight or recite poetry among the blossoms.

To me, poetry is about survival first of all. Survival of the individual self, survival of the emotional life.

Failure: the renewable resource.

Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay.

When she left me I stood out in the thunderstorm, hoping to be destroyed by lightning. It missed, first left, then right.

If you were going to choose a way of making your way in this world and a place to start from, you might not choose poetry and you might not choose Huddersfield.

The act of making poetry is an act of hope.

Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season?

O to be self-balanced for contingencies, to confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as the trees and animals do.

In a lethal world, poetry is necessary for survival.