Quotes About Resilience

But that's what the English mean, isn't it, when they say, He was very philosophical about it? They mean that someone stopped thinking about something.

David dropped the hose on the gravel path, thinking how useless to him Eleanor had become. She had been rigid with terror for too long. It was like trying to palpate a patient's swollen liver when one had already proved that it hurt. She could only be persuaded to relax so often.

And my heart is a handful of dust, / And the wheels go over my head, / And my bones are shaken with pain, / For into a shallow grave they are thrust, / Only a yard beneath the street,' something, something, 'enough to drive one mad.

Edward St. Aubyn

He thought of one of the guiding mottoes of his father's life: 'Never apologize, never explain.

Joy is not the opposite of depression. It is deeper than depression. Therefore, you can experience both. Depression is the relentless rain. Joy is the rock. Whether depression is present or not, you can stand on joy.

You don't really know who you are until you have gone through suffering.

Joy is not the opposite of depression. It is deeper than depression. Therefore, you can experience both. Depression is the relentless rain. Joy is the rock. Whether depression is present or not, you can stand on joy. Does

There is a resiliency in the human spirit that keeps us going even when we have no reason to continue.

It is perhaps the great discomfort of those trying to silence the world to discover that we have voices sealed inside our heads, voices that with each passing day, grow even louder than the clamor of the world outside.

I want to figure out how people can go on with their lives when mine has changed so much. I want to relearn how to breathe without carrying this big, empty cave inside me.

We're all carrying our coffins with us every day." Or "We are all constantly cheating death.

They say the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. I have never been given very much. What was there to take away?

Sometimes hope is the biggest weapon of all to use against us" (Danticat 19).

On that day so long ago, in the year nineteen hundred and thirty-seven, in the Massacre River, my mother did fly. Weighted down by my body inside hers, she leaped from Dominican soil into the water, and out again on the Haitian side of the river. She glowed red when she came out, blood clinging to her skin, which at that moment looked as though it were in flames.

How do you even choose what to mend when so much has already been destroyed? How could she think, she asked herself, that she could revive or save anything?

Still, she heard herself say, "Sometimes you take detours to get where you need to go.

There is a Haitian saying that might upset the aesthetic sensibilities of some women. 'Nou led, nou la,' it says. 'We are ugly, but we are here.' Like the modesty that is common in rural Haitian culture, this saying makes a deeper claim for poor Haitian women than maintaining beauty, be it skin-deep or otherwise. For women like my grandmother, what is worth celebrating is the fact that we are here, that against all odds, we exist.

Sometimes you take detours to get where you need to go.

No one will ever love you more than you love your pain," he had replied, his words ringing even louder in the dark. She

You are not a tragedy, you are a personal essay. You must rise above and you must do it in the last paragraph with basic grammar and easily recognized words.

Misery won't touch you gentle. It always leaves its thumbprints on you; sometimes it leaves them for others to see, sometimes for nobody but you to know of.

Nineteen Thirty-Seven

he reminded himself of his own personal creed, that life was neither something you defended by hiding nor surrendered calmly on other people's terms, but something you lived bravely, out in the open, and that if you had to lose it, you should also lose it on your own terms.