Quotes About Resilience

Ellos mantendrían encendida la llama de la esperanza para un pueblo maltratado; un débil fuego, ciertamente, pero ¿no empezaban los grandes incendios por la más nimia de las chispas?

Los esclavos, más que nadie, conocemos el arte de la hipocresía.

Life isn't easy. And everybody have their own yoke, suffer and pain. Do not think that only you have the hardest life on this earth.

Everybody breaks sooner or later, Bob. Anyone can drown. Sometimes you see it. Most often, you don't because the body protects and the skin hides, so drowning doesn't look like drowning and some people scar so nicely. Take it from an expert.

We all have our fictions, little lies we tell ourselves to keep going from one day to the next.

Those brain-zapped kids weren't the only - or maybe even the worst - enemy.

For that matter, my heart is broken. So maybe they´?l give me his. It´s something to shoot for. And maybe, in all that, Bob? There is forgiveness...

Not everyone wears their scars on their skin.

That pain moves when you move; it mutters between every breath; it spikes your ears; it rips. You think pain can't be any more horrible than that. Until you discover that the well is bottomless. There's always more.

Tell yourself you're dead, the way Matt does, so the past can't hurt you.

Staying alive just to stay alive isn't enough.

A chronic headache muttered in her temples, but like Barrett said, no one ever died from pain. True, but some days you didn't much enjoy living either.

Fighting tricks you into believing you can change the past, even when the past is dead and gone and all of it ashes.

As long as you're alive, there is hope...Hope is saying that I will live one more day, and that is a blessing, too.

Best you shake the dust off your sandals, girl," Jess said. "The past is past

How could you get past a splinter that had worked into your eye and scratched deeper every time you blinked?

Question What is a child? A quiet between two bombardments.

I am your boy drowning in this country, who doesn't know the word for drowning and yells I am diving for the last time!

We grow in direct proportion to the amount of chaos we can sustain and dissipate

But just because you have a bad season doesn't mean you stop planting.

The government people wanted us to believe there was something wrong with her. Because she was strong. Because she stood up for what she believed. Times were hard, but she was still Mom, and she refused to let anyone reduce her.

How could anyone mistake Mom for white? Mom was a proud black woman, the proudest I knew. She hated us having to take welfare food, hated accepting anything we needed but did not earn. We had a picture of Marcus Garvey on the living-room wall, talking about going back to Africa, talking about the power of blackness and the strength of the Negro heart. I couldn't imagine looking at Mom and not seeing that.

Papa, who instructed us to always hold our heads up, who promised us we were worthy, who assured us we were descended from kings—and from architects and farmers and healers and visionaries—no matter what all the hateful people in the world had to say about us.

I know without knowing: the man in that tree was a proud black man. Uppity, some might say. Out of his place, some might say. Too smart for his own good. I can hear the words, see those pink lips moving, spitting the words that promised his death. His back never bent underneath it, and they hated that most. I know plenty.