Quotes About Resilience

Something dropped on her shoulder, but even as she screamed, her heart stopping midbeat, the next oncoming branch swept the tarantula away. Aww! Ick! She manically brushed her shoulder with her free hand, every inch of her covered in goose bumps. "When running from people who're trying to kill you," Walker advised as he kept dragging her, "it's better to stay quiet. Generally speaking.

Her father didn't know the half of her problems. Nobody did. Nobody ever would. She couldn't let anyone find out just how crazy she was, the secret she kept. She would fight her way out of that dark hole somehow. She had to, or it would swallow her for good.

Her insides quivered with the combination of terror and titillation. The bare bones truth was The Shimmy and Shake Shop needed an infusion of income, since her brand- new ice cream shop had to be rebuilt after a criminal tried to destroy it... and her. So much for the quiet small- town life. Murder, mayhem and milkshakes. Who'da thunk it?

The Lord gets his best soldiers out of the highlands of affliction.

But the expression that just past over her face said it all. Anita was trying to forget something dreadful, something that just kept on pushing itself to the surface of her mind no matter what she did.

Your emotional state has a tremendous amount to do with sickness, health and well-being. For years, my husband and I lived on -- and because of -- hope. Hope continues to give me the mental strength to carry on.

When I turned fifty, I was divorced, my son was grown up, and I realized I still had decades to go. It was the oddest thing—just as the culture began to lose interest in me, just as the world decided I was irrelevant, I began to feel more myself than ever. Louder, smarter, stronger. It felt truly adolescent, like I wanted to take drugs and drive fast and shave my head.

To be a writer is to embrace rejection as a way of life.

That's some f***ing doorman you've got there, Ms. Shugak.

At the moment developing a nice little inoffensive cancer somewhere on dry land seemed infinitely preferable to what she was grimly convinced was soon to be her death by drowning way too far out at sea.

We mushrooms are used to being kept in the dark and fed shit three times a day.

Dana Stabenow

If a self-organizing system becomes too static, it runs down; if it becomes too chaotic, it breaks apart.

Someone came into the room. She heard footsteps, sensed someone looming over her, peeling back the sheet to take her pulse and check the bandage. "She may not make it, sir." "She damn well will make it if I have to cross into the hereafter and drag her back!

And now you are coddling me, Andrew. Just like Lucien and Charles and to a smaller extent, Gareth… I may be the baby sister, but I can assure you that I am not fragile. I get tired of the coddling, Andrew. I am not an egg." He just looked at her. "Egg?" "Coddled? Egg?" He stared at her blankly, too distracted by the impending demonstration to match wits with her. "Oh, never mind," she said with a frustrated sigh.

the only thing tears ever brought a person were wrinkles before their time.

I will warn you right now that I will not suffer things as cheerfully as do you." "Meaning?" "Meaning that if I perceive an injustice toward you, I will not let it pass without remark.

Grown women didn't cry; tough, hardened, pirate queens didn't cry. Damn her eyes, what the hell was wrong with her? Her lover stirred—and Maeve froze. Dark azure eyes opened, and he looked lazily up at her through his lashes. "There now, what's this? Did I do something wrong?" He sat up, and tried to reach for her. "Say something wrong?" But she only leapt up and off the bed, putting distance between them.

But Gwyneth was determined that this dark angel, this remote but magnificent man she loved, would not die.

You may think she should be soft and feminine, pampered and sweet, a lady in the accepted sense of the word, but she is what she is, sir, and acted with those qualities that, in a man, would have been applauded as heroic. Courageous." The gentle eyes looked up at Gray, silently condemning. "I'm sorry, sir. But I think you are unfair to reject the woman you love just because she defended that which she held most dear.

You can't go back and change what happened, so why not just forgive yourself and try to make the best of things? Aren't you as deserving of forgiveness as anyone else?

Plan I—Plying the Enemy with Flowers and Gifts—was not working. Plan II—Bringing Aboard the Enemy's Crew— seemed to be failing miserably. It was time to put Plan III—Enticing the Enemy Out of Port—into action.

This sadness wasn't a huge part of me--I wasn't remotely depressed--but still, it was like a stone I carried in my pocket. I always knew it was there. [p. 179]

If we are artists- hell, whether or not we're artists- it is our job, our responsibility, perhaps even our sacred calling, to take whatever life has handed us and make something new, something that wouldn't have existed if not for the fire, the genetic mutation, the sick baby, the accident.