Quotes About Resilience

His trust was a part of him, as much as his hands or his miraculous feet. And despite my hurt, I would not wish to see it gone, to see him as uneasy and fearful as the rest of us, for any price.

that all my life had been murk and depths, but I was not a part of that dark water. I was a creature within it.

How do you bear it?" he said. My eyes gave off a faint light, and by it I could see his face, It was a surprise to realise that he was waiting for an answer. I believed I had one. I thought of another dim room, with another prisoner. He had been a craftsman also. On the foundation of his knowledge, civilisation had been built. Prometheus' words deep-running as roots, had waited in me all this time. "We bear it as best we can," I said.

Even the best iron grows brittle with too much beating.

I did not pretend to be a mortal. I showed my lambent, yellow eyes at every turn. None of it made a difference. I was alone and a woman, that was all that mattered.

I did not hear them. His presence was like a stone in my shoe, impossible to ignore.

Frail she was, but crafty, with a mind like a spike-toothed

His presence was like a stone in my shoe, impossible to ignore.

I have heard that men who live by a waterfall cease to hear it—in such a way did I learn to live beside the rushing torrent of his doom.

We cannot say who will survive the holocaust of memory. Who knows?

I thought: I cannot bear this world a moment longer. Then, child, make another.

The beginning of hope. We have given each other wounds, but they are not mortal.

Daedalus had said to me once: Even the best iron grows brittle with too much beating.

whatever tears might have been in me for that lost dream had been parched away.

I did not go easy to motherhood. I faced it as soldiers face their enemies, girded and braced, sword up against the coming blows. Yet all my preparations were not enough.

So that is what I must hope for then? That one day I will see my father in the underworld and he will be sorry?" It is better than some of us get. But I held my peace. He had a right to his anger, and it was not my place to try to take it.

How long would I cling to that handful of minutes, trying to cover myself as if with some threadbare blanket?

I fled so she would not see my tears and wear them as another of her trophies.

I forget about the god, why I have fallen, why my feet stick in the same crevices I have already climbed. Perhaps this is all I do, I think, demented -- climb walls and fall from them. And this time when I look up, the god is not smiling.

there was something in me that was sick of fear and aw, of gazing at the heavens and wondering what someone would allow me

I believed that she would rather set the world on fire than lose.

Day upon patient day, you must throw out your errors and begin again. So why did I not mind? [...] For a hundred generations, I had walked the world drowsy and dull, idle and at my ease. I left no prints, I did no deeds. Even those who had loved me a little did not care to stay. Then I learned that I could bend the world to my will, as a bow is bent for an arrow.

I lay on the dirt, weeping. Those flowers had made him his true being, which was blue, and finned, and not mine. I thought I would die of such pain, which was not like the sinking numbness Aeëtes had left behind, but sharp and fierce as a blade through my chest. But of course I could not die. I would live on, through each scalding moment to the next. This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh.

She wears a cape, and it is this that undoes her—that allows her to be pulled, limbs light and poised as a cat, from her horse.