Quotes About Perseverance

Somehow, despite it's tragedies, life goes on.

But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.

A minute's success pays the failure of years.

I was ever a fighter, so---one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes and forbore, and bade me creep past.

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph.

You'll love me yet!--and I can tarry Your love's protracted growing: June reared that bunch of flowers you carry, From seeds of April's sowing. I plant a heartful now: some seed At least is sure to strike, And yield--what you'll not pluck indeed, Not love, but, may be, like. You'll look at least on love's remains, A grave's one violet: Your look?--that pays a thousand pains. What's death? You'll love me yet!

What if we still ride on, we two With life for ever old yet new, Changed not in kind but in degree, The instant made eternity

There they stood, ranged along the hillsides, met To view the last of me, a living frame For one more picture! In a sheet of flame I saw them and I knew them all. And yet Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set, And blew. 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.

The power of the night, the press of the storm, the post of the foe; where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, yet, the strong man must go.

Hold On. Hope Hard.

Last night I saw you in my sleep: And how your charm of face was changed! I asked, 'Some love, some faith you keep?' You answered, 'Faith gone, love estranged.' Whereat I woke--- a twofold bliss: Waking was one, but next there came This other:Though I felt, for this, My heart break, I loved on the same.

A bitter heart that bides its time and bites.

Glad was I when I reached the other bank. Now for a better country. Vain presage! Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage, Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage-

dark, difficult enough the human sphere, yet eyes grow sharp by use

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.

The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley. An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! (To A Mouse)

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

La Chenille/ Caterpillar Work hard, poets, work with good cheer: Work leads to wealth and freedom from fear; And butterflies, for all their graces, Are merely caterpillars who persevere. Guillaume Apollinaire

But I remain with Rennie because she too is stubborn, because love requires us to stubbornly imperil each other, to demand that which can't be given and to go on demanding it. Every romance is a war of philosophies; the stakes are the romance itself. And if one person wins, it's all over.

During the assault on Fallujah, Marine commanders intercepted an enemy radio conversation and heard an insurgent say, "We are fighting, but the Marines keep coming. We are shooting, but the Marines won't stop.

As he later wrote, if he believed there were things he couldn't do, he would still be working at the meatpacking plant in Sioux City.

He closed with a partial verse from "Sir Andrew Barton," one of the ballads in Percy's Reliques, published in 1765. Barton had been wounded in battle. "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine; He but lye downe and bleede awhile, And then He rise and fight againe.

When he ran, he even loved the pain, the hurt of the running, the burning in his lungs and the spasms that sometimes gripped his calves. He loved it because he knew he could endure the pain, and even go beyond it. He had never pushed himself to the limit but he felt all this reserve strength inside of him: more than strength actually—determination. And it sang in him as he ran, his heart pumping blood joyfully through his body.

Nothing glamorous like the write-ups in the papers or the newsreels. We weren't heroes. We were only there... Closing his eyes, he then slumps against the wall, as if the words he has spoken has used up all his energy.