Quotes About Survival

Of the three legions' fifteen thousand men, few survived to tell the tale.

bite by an asp is not necessarily fatal, and even when it is, as much as two hours may pass before life is extinguished.

Octavian's surviving ships were blown against the craggy coast and pounded against the rocks

Sanford, this story that my son appears to have instructed you to tell me features a young man who gets shot in the head nine times at close range with a .38 pistol, once in the chest at close range with a .22 rifle, then bashed over the head by you with the ax two or maybe three times, but even then he was still alive and required a final blow from Stewart. And that was also a blow to the head with the ax. At which point this unfortunate fellow finally decided that this world was not for him.

All was lost now. All the dreams of whatever God had created for them, lost. He wondered in that moment why it was that he had been born and survived the war, only to meet this fate, here, in his home country. Maybe he had never had a life, but was only a figurine played out on a master game board.

Evolution forged the entirety of sentient life on this planet using only one tool, the mistake.

By any rights, he should be dead. He was involved in an explosion with a bomb, which he happened to be carrying at the time. Conrad is something of a scientific miracle. There are more than thirty metal pins in his body. He has a metal plate in his skull. There are metal wires in his jaw and in most of his major joints." "He must set off a lot of airport alarms," Alex muttered.

Alex felt the bullets pass over his shoulder and heard a scream as one of the other guards was hit. Well, that made one less anyway!

If the laws of physics worked, he would make it across. If they didn't, he would die. It was as simple as that.

Alex knew he was in danger the same way an animal does. There was no need to ask why or how. Danger was simply there.

paid for a wet weekend in Torquay! For all her airs and graces, it seems there isn't much of an audience for clinically depressed call girls surviving Hiroshima or weird Japanese poems that don't make any sense.

Perhaps he had been a little faster. But he had been luckier too. It would not always be that way. Bond knew that there would come a time, a moment in a mission, when his luck would run out. It was a mathematical certainty. No agent had ever survived long in the Double O section and one day someone, somewhere would have the edge and it would be he lying there dead, flat-out in the rain. But not today.

Bond knew it was over. This was it. But he also knew what he was going to do. Even as he had been speaking, he had been lowering himself imperceptibly, inch by inch, simply by bending his knees. The rain had helped him. It was driving into the Russian's eyes. He hadn't seen what Bond was doing. The Russian fired at point-blank range. He had been aiming directly at Bond's chest.

The truth was important. The truth mattered. It mattered more than the fact that he was only twelve and that his story was completely preposterous. People like Granny, all bullies in fact, only managed to survive because they lived behind the truth. Once people knew them for what they were, they would be powerless.

Atticus Pünd had no time for religion. During the war, he had been persecuted not for what he believed but for what he was, a Greek Jew whose great-grandfather had emigrated to Germany sixty years before he was born, unaware that although he was bettering his own life, his decision would lead to the extinction of almost his entire bloodline.

he had his gun and his wallet which, he decided, was all you really needed to get by in America.

It's often difficult to slough off all that we've acquired, all the comforts and safety nets modern life provides for us, and realize that in those days, people were living very much on the edge - life was incredibly hard!

Both camels are dead and our provisions are done.

Humanity lives and always has lived on certain elemental provisions.

One of the reasons why Gadafy's dictatorship has managed to remain in power for so long is not just because it has shown itself to be able to exact a great deal of violence, both psychological and physical, on its people, but because it has been very successful at imposing a narrative, a story.

I've been doing expeditions for a living for more than 20 years and know all about what you have to go through psychologically to separate yourself from the modern world.

You'd be playing in a pub in the afternoon. Then late at night, you'd be playing a club. You got into that habit: 'If we don't play, we don't eat.'

I have seen journals with good financial backing and editorial support die because they looked so bad nobody wanted to publish them.

There were eleven publishers in New York City, and when it was all over, I think it went down to four or five, and then finally just the three of them, the Big Three.