Quotes About Resilience

Because no matter how far you may travel, you are what you are, and even when you are flying at thrilling new heights, circling the sun and thinking you belong in the halo of that perfect golden light, you do not. The wings always melt, and you always crash-land in your same old self.

But as I have noticed on more than one occasion, life itself is unfair, and there is no complaint department, so we might as well accept things the way they happen, clean up the mess, and move on.

Rita was almost as badly damaged as I am.

There's lots of bad guys out there. I can't catch them all. To be truthful, she couldn't catch any of them unless they hurled themselves off a building and into the front seat of her car.

But it is a truism of life that no matter how much we are suffering, nobody else cares—generally speaking, nobody even notices.

I gave myself a stern lecture, told myself to buck up, play the man, be a mensch, do what must be done, and after several similar clichés I began to believe I could do it, but the thought of it still tickled at me.

She ground her teeth and squeezed her hands together some more for a few seconds, and she seemed to think about jumping out the window. But it was only the second floor, and the windows were sealed shut, so finally Debs turned away and slumped back into her chair. "All right," she said through clenched teeth. "Let's do it." There

At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.

There was no deadly serpent hidden in my desk drawer, no assegais hurtling at my neck from a passing car, nothing. Even Deborah and her blistering arm punches were taking a holiday. I saw her and even spoke to her, of course. Her arm was still in a cast, and I would have expected her to call on me quite often for help, but she did not. Duarte was apparently picking up the slack, and Debs seemed content to live on a much lower dose of Dexter. So

Illegitimi non carborundum, I suppose.

His hair had not grown back in the last hour, but he had at least changed out of the orange coverall and into a white terry-cloth robe and he was lying there in the middle of the bed shaved, shaking, and sweating heavily with a half-empty bottle of Skyy Vodka lying beside him. Deborah didn't even slow down at the door. She charged right over to the bed and sat beside him, taking his only hand in her only hand. Love among the ruins.

Life is hard and uncertain, and sometimes a small victory has to be enough.

I finally gave up and blotted my shirt dry the best I could. I left the restroom wearing my semi-wet stained shirt and headed for the lab, hoping I might get some sartorial sympathy from Vince Masuoka.

By the time I went to sleep tonight, Crowley would have gone the way of the dodo and the balanced budget.

Great, now I'm a moron," Vince grumbled, and nodded at me. "You see how smart you are with Simone Legree halfway up your ass.

But as I have noticed on more than one occasion, life itself is unfair, and there is no complaint department, so we might as well accept things the way they happen, clean up the mess, and move on. Which

I had finally managed to move the game back to my table, where I knew the rules and the odds, and I had stupidly allowed myself to see just one tiny glimmer of light at the end of the long dark tunnel. And then with a terrible self-satisfied smirk, Life had come breezing in and blown out all the candles again.

Lakukan apa yang kau bisa untuk membawa sedikit keceriaan di dunia yang suram ini, dan jika orang-orang menolak usahamu, itu salah mereka.

People don't usually bother me very much, since they are, after all, only flesh and blood, and I know very well just how fragile and transitory that is. But

I nodded. It made a certain amount of sense. Deborah had recently been stabbed, and had come so close to death from blood loss that the difference was a matter of a few seconds in the ambulance. And certainly Chutsky, her boyfriend, would know about that—he had been some kind of intelligence operative before being disabled, and his body was a raised-relief road map of scar tissue.

And on the trip home, with brand-new shiny silver bands on her teeth, she was just as silent, but more aggressively so.

I had just forgotten, somehow, that life was struggle, and the only reward was to be allowed to live a little longer and struggle harder.

Well, come on, Debs," I said, and I admit I was a little peevish. "You knew this would happen, and it happened, so why should it bother you?" She

I began to wonder if perhaps I was still lying somewhere, tied up and drugged, and hallucinating all this. The idea was very comforting—but my stomach was growling, and my chest hurt where Debs had poked me, and I realized that something so unpleasant was probably true, and that meant I had to deal with it.