Quotes About Resilience

Keep driving," said a soft voice in my ear. "She will not bite if you keep driving." Fuck that. Fuck that idea like the fucking Captain of the Thai Fuck Team fucking at the fucking Tour de Fuck.

People like me know that there is no magic. There is only the grind. Work looks like magic to those unwilling to do it.

I didn't cry. And if you think I did, good luck proving it, asshole.

My shame circuits burned out from overuse years ago.

You can lie to yourself, say that you never had a choice, that you weren't cut out for this. But deep down you'll know. You'll know that humans aren't cut out for anything. We cut ourselves out. Slowly, with a rusty knife.

They call it kintsugi. The pot is shattered, then carefully reassembled with a resin mixed with gold. It symbolizes how we must incorporate our wounds into who we are, rather than try to merely repair and forget them.

We moved in silence for a moment and I said, "How did we screw this all up so badly, John?" He shook his head. "We always find a way.

Oh, hey, he'd figured out how to work the stupid ramp mechanism. It'd have been nice to have done that before he was forced to steal some guy's tow truck, but that was how every single possible thing had gone so far in this situation. Just a little bit behind the curve, a little slow to figure out the right thing. Story of his fucking life.

I've developed a pretty good survival system involving nothing more than mental alertness exercises, positive thinking and amphetamines.

I'm burning out, John. Seriously. I don't know if I'm up for this. I feel stretched out, like too little butter scraped over too much waffle. And then it all falls down into one of the waffle holes and there's none left for the rest of the waffle and you sort of have to tilt it to make it run out.

Six centuries ago, the pre-Colombian natives who settled here named this region with a word that in their language translates to, 'The Mouth of the Shadow.' Later, the Iroquois who showed up and inexplicably slaughtered every man, woman, and child in those first tribes renamed it a word that literally translates to, 'Seriously, Fuck this Place.

John and I have made this stuff our hobby, in the way that an especially attractive prisoner makes a hobby out of not getting raped.

I stared out of the window, at my Bronco rusting in the parking lot, the metal eager to get back to just being dirt. Life was probably easier for it back then.

The guy next to him looked like he had covered his body in glue and rolled through a knife store. At the bottom of the feed was a logo that said "LEAGUE OF BADASS.

There is no 'chosen one,' there is no destiny, nobody wakes up one day and finds out they're amazing at something. There's just slamming your head into the wall, refusing to take no for an answer. Being relentless, until either the wall or your head breaks. You want to be a hero? You don't have to make some grand decision. There's no inspirational music, there's no montage. You just don't quit.

John says the men threw him down and intended to execute him, at which point he kicked one of the men in the face and backflipped to his feet. He then wrestled away the man's gun and "dick-whipped" him with it. I am unclear as to whether or not this means he struck the man in the groin or merely slapped him in the same manner in which he would slap a person with his dick.

His house had burned down. That meant he needed … everything. Clothes. Heartburn pills. Replacement contact lenses in case he lost one. Dandruff shampoo. Some Oreos. A book.

We're like one German soldier alone on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, holding a sharp stick.

You say you're not a hero? Well, I'm going to tell you the best and the worst thing you've ever heard. Heroes aren't born. You just go out there and grind it out. You fail and you look foolish and you just keep grinding.

But it was just crying. She didn't get hysterical. She didn't fall apart.

Who would bring light must endure burning.

There are three requisites for growth without bound, and only three: the will to remake oneself, the genius to survive, and the strength to suffer.

In every man and woman there are three phases of life more descriptive of the soul's inner journey than are childhood, maturity and old age: It can't happen to me; I can overcome it; I accept it.

Quit now, you'll never make it. If you disregard this advice, you'll be halfway there.