Quotes About Survival

His joy dribbled away, turned into a deep mourning for the twenty people who'd lost their lives. Despite the alternative, despite knowing that if they hadn't tried to escape, all of them might've died, it still hurt, even though he hadn't known them very well. Such a display of death—how could it be considered a victory?

He'd been at the Glade for roughly twenty-four hours. One full day. And look at all the things that had happened. All the terrible things. Surely it could only get better.

He might die." "Or worse. He might live." He hears one last thing, finally something that doesn't make him shiver in disgust or fright. "Or he and the others might save us. Save us all.

I was the last one to come through. Did everyone make it?" "We were lining up and counting off nice and easy till you came stumbling through like a doped-up bull," Minho responded.

You're Subject A-two," Newt answered. Then he lowered his eyes "And?" Thomas pushed. Newt hesitated, then answered without looking at him. "It doesn't call you anything. It just says . . . 'To be killed by Group B.

But what about all those dead people we saw? Maybe they rescued us for real, got killed, and now we're screwed. Maybe we were supposed to do something, but now it's all been messed up and we've been left here to die.

Must lead to where the … ya know … Grievers live," he said when finished. "The Griever Hole," Thomas added.

All right, then," the man said. "Follow me. And remember, if any of your body parts become detached due to an unfortunate encounter with a Crank, I highly advise you to leave said body part behind and run like hell. Unless it's a leg, of course.

We will survive. I promise.

That's exactly two weeks—starting the second you step through the Trans. If you don't make it, eventually you'll end up dead." The room should've

WORLD IN CATASTROPHE: KILLZONE EXPERIMENT DEPARTMENT

Welcome to the Glade.

Calm down, boy. We've been in a lot tougher situations than this," Alec answered. "Just find something—anything—you can get your hands on and bang away at somebody's head if they come charging.

I'm a bloody Crank!

He didn't know how he'd make it through the next five minutes. Or the next hour. How could he possibly go through an entire day? Then sleep and start the whole thing all over again? Despair sucked at him, an empty, yawning void that threatened to pull him down into an awful abyss. A panic-laced craziness struck him. Suffusing it all, the pain.

CRUEL es bueno. CRUEL es bueno...

It's be tough now or everyone dies later.

They've already got a name for it, by the way. They're calling it the Flare.

Stay together. Don't die." "Well, we're all bloody inspired.

And if all has gone according to plan, we have sent the brightest, the strongest, the toughest of our subjects to a safe place, where they can begin civilization anew while the rest of the world is driven to extinction.

But they'd survived that, too, eventually finding their way to the settlements. Where they might've lived in peace if it weren't for a committee called the PCC.

Be careful," he said dryly. "Don't die.

Saving the most people means we can't help anybody if we're dead.

Well, the PFC is trying to cheat nature. It's time to stand up for ourselves. We … will … live!