Quotes About Resilience

Niki Behrikis Shanahan

Being strong is important. But knowing who you can count on is equally important

The real crunch comes when there is no yoghurt.

The grief is not over, it will never be over. It still trips me up in unexpected moments, stumbling me all over again. What does it: a reminisce with Paul, the sight of a mate laughing so easily with their mum, a Klimt painting we both loved. Simple things. Two steps forward, one step back, righting myself and then not. But the moving forward is stronger, swifter now; the seam of melancholy more hidden. Yes, climbing back into the world. Firm.

Suffering should always open the door to wisdom.

A lot of people resist transition and therefore never allow themselves to enjoy who they are. Embrace the change, no matter what it is once you do, you can learn about the new world you're in and take advantage of it.

Mistakes are a fact of life: It is the response to the error that counts.

Nothing is easy to the unwilling.

A lot of people refuse to do things because they don't want to go naked, don't want to go without guarantee. But that's what's got to happen. You go naked until you die

I really don't think life is about the I-could-have-beens. Life is only about the I-tried-to-do. I don't mind the failure but I can't imagine that I'd forgive myself if I didn't try.

Style has a profound meaning to Black Americans. If we can't drive, we will invent walks and the world will envy the dexterity of our feet. If we can't have ham, we will boil chitterlings; if we are given rotten peaches, we will make cobblers; if given scraps, we will make quilts; take away our drums, and we will clap our hands. We prove the human spirit will prevail. We will take what we have to make what we need. We need confidence in our knowledge of who we are.

They tell me I should squeeze my hopes into a miniature box of their design. But I'm not so inclined.

The foster home they were leaving was no place to be. The mother, Mrs. Boone, slapped Paris around every time her real daughter did something that called for punishment....After each beating, the daughter, Lisa, would swear she had no clue how her mama got the mistaken notion that Paris was the one who'd smashed a favorite vase, or stained the kitchen tablecloth, or whatever. My name is Paris, not Stupid, Paris would say to herself.

Don't bother about what people say, mija," he told me. "Let them talk. They only prove their ignorance." I know my father's right. I also know that words have teeth. Sometimes I get tired of the bite marks.

Joe shrugs off his hurt. "Knock, knock?" he says. "Not now, Joe." "Come on, man! Knock, knock." I give in. "Who's there?" "Your friend, Joe, who's always here for you.

Only the wind shatters the silence. I have been here before choking in solitude.

Is there more to me? Sure. Kids yell 'albino boy.' I don't turn around. Choose the name you answer to. No one can do that but you.

I'd pretend their words were water and let them roll off my back. Now, I'm nobody's duck, and their words stung a whole lot more than water.

The day she clips her way out of her cocoon, the only sound she plans to hear is a deafening cheer.

You laugh, rap my woody shell with wicked whispers shaped like knuckles, then toss me aside. Lucky for me, I don't bruise easily. Besides, you loss is someone else's gain for I am coconut, and the heart of me is sweeter than you know.

I didn't have much in the world, but my fears were my own.

The crashing sound of years lost shattered in her ears, and new fears emerged from the looking glass. Sometimes I wonder if she'll ever sing again.

Why let Angela call me something that I'm not? Or let her tease me? Bad enough the kids at school kick my heart around

I do like Manny, crank up the inside volume, listen to my dreams as I walk through the school halls, I choose what words to let in.