Quotes About Survival

Czar had been a ten-year-old boy who mastered the plan to keep them all alive in the hell they'd grown up in. He'd given them hope in their darkest times. He'd driven them to perfect their abilities.

They'd always kept eyes on one another. Always. It was Czar's rule. Their rule. Their code. Their promise to one another. It was how they survived. But he hadn't. He'd taken his eyes off Demyan and he'd died in the worst possible way.

He hoped they were wrong, but he had a bad feeling, that nagging one that always told him he was right. He didn't like knowing, but that radar had saved not only him, but his fellow GhostWalkers on more than one occasion.

It is not reasonable to presume an eighty-year-old mortal could survive an attack," Mikhail answered grimly. "It is not logical to presume anything," Gregori reminded as he glided up onto the porch.

Damon Wilder was a man driven to the edge of sanity. Moving to this tiny town on the coast was his last effort to hang onto life.

She didn't want to go up to him and find him dead. She'd found enough dead people, their bodies soaking in bright red blood. Who knew there was so much blood in the human body? Or that it could be so sticky and get everywhere?

I have no intention of rising above caveman mentality," he growled in her ear, his breath teasing tendrils of hair and sending little flames dancing through her bloodstream. "There are so many benefits for the caveman.

He had learned to kill and then he had killed. Many times. Fourteen was far too young for his artistic mind to accept the violence and he'd been fortunate that he'd met his teacher, a rope master of more than forty years. The art had saved his sanity and his life. He needed it like others needed air.

His body hurt all the time. The bullets had torn into him; not only him, but his leopard as well, nearly killing both of them. He wished they had succeeded.

He'd grown up a criminal. A man who hurt others. A man who destroyed the lives of others. A man who killed. That was who and what he was, and no matter how hard he tried to climb out of that world of blood and treachery, there was no getting out. Never. He didn't have much to live for.

You aren't worried, are you?" "Why should I be worried? It's just another day in the neighborhood. You know—bombs, fires, people shooting at you. Why would I be worried? Especially since we could be clothes shopping or boarding a plane. I'm not in the least worried." "Hmmm," he mused aloud.

No matter what, the living came first.

Malichai had grown up fierce, using his fists, learning every form of underhanded street-fighting known to man, and he'd learned it was life or death. He'd chosen life.

Don't talk, Grace. Save your strength. I've got this. All you have to do is stay alive for me. I'll take care of everything else. Will you do that for me? Just stay alive. Her nod was nearly imperceptible, but it was there.

Two people died for every one who made it to the auction block, he said.

This chronicle of survival against pirates, wild animals and the elements went on to become a beloved classic and the most memorable thing about Switzerland apart from Toblerones and euthanasia

The city survived in fragments, as though it had been painted on glass and the glass had shattered. He

In the dark, full of fear, fighting for life, the human mind could slip into pure instinct.

Why do humans exist? A major part of the answer: because Pikaia Gracilens survived the Burgess decimation.

An old joke has an Oxford professor meeting an American former graduate student and asking him what he's working on these days. 'My thesis is on the survival of the class system in the United States.' 'Oh really, that's interesting: one didn't think there was a class system in the United States.' 'Nobody does. That's how it survives.

Evolution is, as well as smarter than we are, infinitely more callous and cruel, and also capricious.

To what faults do you feel most indulgent? To the ones that arise from urgent material needs.

In The Future of an Illusion, Freud made the obvious point that religion suffered from one incurable deficiency: it was too clearly derived from our own desire to escape from or survive death. This critique of wish-thinking is strong and unanswerable

Nothing proves evolution more than the survival of the religious belief. It shows we are still fearful, partially formed animals with a terror of death and the dark