Quotes About Perseverance

Hope is not a door, but a sense that there might be a door at some point, some way out of the problems of the present moment even before the way is found or followed.

We don't even have a language for this emotion, in which the wonderful comes wrapped in the terrible, joy in sorrow, courage in fear. We cannot welcome disaster, but we can value the responses, both practical and psychological.

Not a few stories are sinking ships, and many of us go down with these ships even when the lifeboats are bobbing all around us.

Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope.

breaking through the barriers which life's routine had concreted around the deeper strata of the will, and gradually bringing its unused energies into action." And he spoke of the "stores of bottled up energy and endurance" that people in the earthquake had discovered within themselves.

What gives me hope is that human history is full of examples of people across the ages who have risen to face the great challenges of their time and have succeeded. Victory is not the arrival in some promised land; it is the series of imperfect victories along the way that edge us closer to building the critical mass that eventually shifts the status quo.

Despair is also often premature: it's a form of impatience as well as of certainty.

Waiting until everything looks feasible is too long to wait.

for pilgrims, walking is work.

En mi opinión, su habilidad más importante era sencillamente el optimismo que les hacía pensar que iban a sobrevivir y encontrar el camino».

Utopia is on the horizon," declares Eduardo Galeano. "When I walk two steps, it takes two steps back. I walk ten steps and it is ten steps further away. What is utopia for? It is for this, for walking." Judeo-Christian

For twenty years I have sat alone at a desk tinkering with sentences and then sending them out, and for most of my literary life the difference between throwing something in the trash and publishing it was imperceptible...

People die in this war, but the ideas cannot be erased.

It was as though she traveled by a map of the wrong place, hitting walls, driving into ditches, missing her destination, but never stopping or throwing out the map. And she never stopped being Cinderella, and told her own story largely as a series of things that happened to her rather than things she did.

It's life, Sidda. You just climb on the beast and ride.

Tears will do you no good.

The alligators can get you at any age, Buddy. But the worst thing you can do is freeze.

You can't let fear of hurricanes stop your from putting seeds in the ground, even if they're going to grow tall only to be destroyed.

I try to believe ,she said that god doesn't give you more than one piece of the story at ounce. You know, the story of your life. Otherwise your heart would crack wider than you could handle. He only crack it enough so you can still walk, like someone wearing a cast. But you've still got a crack running up your side, big enough for a sapling to grow out of. Only no one sees it. Everyone thinks you're one whole piece, and so they treat you maybe not so gentle as they can't see that crack.

I couldn't wait until my own stroke was strong enough for me to follow in her wake.

sparklers out in front of her. Staring at them, she thought: These are all I have. I do not have the wide, bright beacon of some solid old lighthouse, guiding ships safely home, past the jagged rocks. I only have these little glimmers that flicker and then go out. Let me see my daughter like my mother could never see me. Let her see me, too.

supposed to walk off my block, Sherry says, like a real whiny-baby.

God will not allow us to be overwhelmed by temptation, but with it He will provide a way of escape so that we will be able to endure it.

The King and Queen hid in a secret cupboard in their bedroom for two hours, listening to the searchers grow cold, then warm, then cold again, then warm, and at last hot, and burning hot. The weakly King was hard to kill: when they threw him from the balcony they thought him doubly dead from bullet wounds and sword slashes, but the fingers of his right hand clasped the railing and had to be cut off before he fell to the ground, where the fingers of his left hand clutched the grass.