Quotes About Recovery

I have become vegan - I don't take dairy or meat. It has helped me a lot in terms of recovery and digestion.

We have physical therapy there now so any fighter with an injury in the UFC can come to Vegas and get treatment every day.

I just became a vegetable for three months. I couldn't talk to people. I was very ill and that was part of the reason I left college.

My digestive system was so damaged that I became allergic to almost everything, including fruit and vegetables, and the only thing I could stomach was chicken and chips.

I had a motorcycle accident, and I had my garage burn down with most of my vehicles. And I've had really bad relationships that I've been in and out of. They've left their mark.

I have all kinds of chest injuries; I tore my vein during 'Rocky II' and had 60 stitches. If you've seen 'Rocky Balboa,' you'll know how bad they look.

Since Beau's death, I'm definitely shattered. I feel like a piece of china that's been glued back together again. The cracks may be imperceptible-but they're there. Look closely, and you can see the glue holding me together, the precarious edges that vein through my heart. I am not the same. I feel it every day.

I got food poisoning in Venezuela, and it sucked!

After the scarlet fever and the whooping cough, I remember I started to get mad about it all... I went through the stage of asking myself, 'Wilma, what is this existence all about? Is it about being sick all the time? It can't be.' So I started getting angry about things, fighting back in a new way with a vengeance.

When you have a very hot single there is no reason why it can't drive album sales. People fall off and come back on. I'm looking forward to coming back on with a vengeance.

Vengeance is the act of turning anger in on yourself. On the surface it may be directed at someone else, but it is a surefire recipe for arresting emotional recovery.

I think, a lot of guys, when they get, you know, those hits or those concussions, they think, 'OK, well, I'm just going to kind of play through it here for the short term, and it's going to get better.' I would venture to say probably 100 percent of the guys that played my sport in the NFL have been there.

When you - when you - and this is still going on today - are making your money by pushing paper around, when you should be making your money by investing venture capital in various job-creating things, that makes it much harder to recover.

You had to have a unanimous jury verdict, and one percent of contributory negligence barred all recovery. It was so satisfying to realize I could do it. And I'll tell you what motivated me: competitiveness. I was betting on me. That's what a contingent-fee lawyer does.

I'm very proud of what we've been doing here in San Diego, and the turnaround that's happened here... We went through some very trying times. This city was literally on the verge of bankruptcy and doing so many things wrong.

One of the most painful parts of a breakup is having the feeling that your life is a story, and then the other person leaves and takes the story with them. And you're left there without it. You're left in this version of life that's basically a succession of events and interactions that don't seem to be going anywhere.

I recovered my infant Judaism, but in a reformist version.

At the age of twenty, without experience or advice, my mother was torn between two moribund creatures. Her marriage of convenience found its truth in sickness and mourning... Upon the death of my father, Anne-Marie and I awoke from a common nightmare. I got better. But we were both victims of a misunderstanding: she returned lovingly to the child she had never left; I regained consciousness in the lap of a stranger.

I'm going to bed. I'm cured, and I'm going to give up writing down my impressions, like a little girl, in a nice new notebook.

Beanie moved from cocaine to speedballing, the coke/heroin mix that livened up the heroin while bringing gravitas to an otherwise dipshit high like cocaine.

This was just no fun. I wanted my brain back.

Rita was almost as badly damaged as I am.

Doakes was gone. One small piece at a time he was leaving my life and releasing me from the involuntary servitude of Rita's couch. I could live again.

His hair had not grown back in the last hour, but he had at least changed out of the orange coverall and into a white terry-cloth robe and he was lying there in the middle of the bed shaved, shaking, and sweating heavily with a half-empty bottle of Skyy Vodka lying beside him. Deborah didn't even slow down at the door. She charged right over to the bed and sat beside him, taking his only hand in her only hand. Love among the ruins.