Quotes About Survival

Oh, yes. Every year in this Land of the Gods we have earth tremors. And fires and flood and Great Waves, and the monster storms – the tai-funs. Nature is very strong with us.' Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. 'Perhaps that is why we love life so much, Anjin-san. You see, we have to. Death is part of our air and sea and earth. You should know, Anjin-san, in this Land of Tears, death is our heritage.

Perhaps that is why we love life so much, Anjin-san. You see, we have to. Death is part of our air and see and earth.

Changi changed everyone, changed values permanently. For instance, it gave you a dullness about death—we saw too much of it to have the same sort of meaning to outsiders, to normal people. We're a generation of dinosaurs, we the few who survived. I suppose anyone who goes to war, any war, sees life with different eyes if they end up in one piece.

After all those horrors at Changi, you don't detest them?" After a pause Peter Marlowe shook his head. "I don't detest anyone. Even Grey. It takes all of my mind and energy to appreciate that I'm alive.

Oh yes," Dunstan Barre said sadly. "Casey, in war to survive you have to stretch things a bit sometimes. As to trading, Marlowe, I agree, most times you have to equate the problem to the time and place. I thank God I was never caught. Don't think I'd've survived, know I wouldn't.

That's the first rule of survival in enemy waters: volunteer nothing.

Adam ruled over vÅ¡emi.Byl Král.Až the day he will be king opustila.Pak came forth and became food for the silnÄ›jÅ¡í.A strongest was always king , not only due to its strength, but thanks to his smarts , luck and strength together. among rats.

This will be a fight against overwhelming odds from which survival cannot be expected. We will do what damage we can.

There's a kid or some kids somewhere. I'll never know them. They're particle-puzzle-cubing right now. They might be mini-misanthropes from Moosefart, Montana. They might be demi-dystopians from Dogdick, Delaware. They dig my demonic dramas. The metaphysic maims them. They grasp the gravity. They'll duke it out with their demons. They'll serve a surfeit of survival skills. They won't be chronologically crucified. They'll shore up my shit. They'll radically revise it. They'll pass it along.

The deer that goes too often to the lick meets the hunter at last!

for flowers that will bloom in a garden will die on a heath...

Hardship! 'tis a pleasure, children, and the greatest that is left me on this side the grave.

Están en juego nuestras vidas! Cuando los hombres luchan para conservar su propia existencia, hasta la sangre de sus semejantes carece de valor.

Stay. Fight. Live. Take it. Cry. Cry. Cry.

Addicts, as a group, generally score far above average o intelligence tests. Why? You tell me. I guess maybe we're smart enough to have figured out how shitty things are and we decide addiction is the only way to deal with it.

And even though people try to pretend that pain doesn't do anything to them, none of us can really handle it. Everything bad we do in our life is because of pain of some kind.

There is, though, nothing that prepares us for the worst things in our life. There is nothing you can do to stop the shock, or buffer the pain.

I felt like I had lost something. But not something silly, like my keys or my gum; more like my arm or my foot, something that really mattered. Like something that I could live without, but would make life much harder if it were missing. And life is hard enough. Life is hard enough with everything we're given.

On my first day in jail, a three hundred pound man named Porterhouse hit me in the back of the head with a metal tray. I was standing in line for lunch and I didn't see it coming. I went down. When I got up, I turned around and started throwing punches. (James Frey, pg.1)

On the left side of my cheek a row of crusted scabbed stitches hold a deep 1 inch-long gash together. My nose is bent and swollen beneath its bandage and red lines streak from my nostrils. There are black and yellow bruises beneath both eyes, there is blood both wet and dry everywhere. (James Frey)

The clock holds me nowhere. Nowhere. Nowhere. There is nothing else but now and the shifting depth of night. I sit at a table alone smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee and listening and surviving. I should not be here or anywhere. I should not be breathing or taking space.

The pain is immense, but I need it because it keeps me from going insane.

They live in cardbox encampments, tin shacks, they live in tents and sleeping bags, they live on the ground. They yell at each other, scream at each other, sleep with each other, do drugs and drink with each other, fuck each other, kill each other. They

I want to run or die or get fucked up