Quotes About Survival

Als iemand haar uit de narigheid haalt sterft ze.

Dear Lord, we thank you for this day, good food, better friends, and the fact that Ida Belle and I have outlived so many people we didn't like.

only one road out here." "Just stay cool," I said. "They're probably

I looked around my boat and sighed. "When the corpses outnumber the living, you know your boat has taken a hard turn in the wrong direction.

We all bear traces of the starvation struggle which for so long made up the life of the race.

I dreamed night after night that everyone in the world was dead excepting myself, and that upon me rested the responsibility of making a wagon wheel.

For if my poems have always been about survival--and I believe they have been--then survival too keeps revealing itself as an art of the unexpected.

Here we are, the most clever species ever to have lived. So how is it we can destroy the only planet we have?

A starving man learns to respect the hand that feeds him, the one who cares for his most primal needs.

The fairy tales warn you: Do not go in, you who would eat will be eaten.

She says she's too old to fight and too fat to run, so she just has to rely on her good nature to survive.

When your father died, I thought I'd die too. But then your heart keeps beating, you keep taking breaths and getting hungry and needing sleep, so you know you're not dead. One day, something makes you laugh and you're ripped with guilt because you can. A month passes and then a year, and you've gone on with your life even knowing you couldn't, but you do.

These children learn to adapt to life rather than learning how to live their lives.

fine tailoring couldn't cloak the primitive danger of the desert. The desert was about life. Death. Survival. And she saw the desert in his eyes, dark gold like the Saharan sand.

My mother lived in Holland, and during World War II was incarcerated in a Japanese camp for three years.

Acceptable food rots while we are chased from bins behind restaurants, chased from sleeping on the street, chased from relieving ourselves unless we pay for food or gas, until finally we are so hungry, sleepless, smelly, constipated and beaten-down that we simply die of lack of will to live.

In the traditional urban novel, there is only survival or not. The suburban idea, the conformist idea, that agony can be seen to and cured by doctors or psychoanalysis or self-knowledge is nowhere to be found in the city. Talking is a way of life, but it is not a cure. Same with religion.

i thought about the miseries people conceal and how they manage to survive.

Our ability to delude ourselves may be an important survival tool.

no-one would want to go through a traumatic experience but when you've survived something life-shattering and risen above it, you achieve a kind of serenity.

Wherever there was a scrap of soil amongst the ravaged crags, emaciated trees struggled to cling on: a poignant metaphor for the way so many Nepalis eke out an existence, defiantly surviving on less than nothing.

We all have such stories. It is a brutal arithmetic. But I - I am alive. You are alive. As long as we breathe, we can see and hear. As long as we can remember, all those gone before are alive inside us.

Fiction cannot recite the numbing numbers, but it can be that witness, that memory. A storyteller can attempt to tell the human tale, can make a galaxy out of the chaos, can point to the fact that some people survived even as most people died. And can remind us that the swallows still sing around the smokestacks.

For every survivor there is also a rapist.