Quotes About Survival

If suddenly you do not exist, If suddenly you are not living, I shall go on living. I do not dare, I do not dare to write it, if you die. I shall go on living.

From one hell to another, what difference? In the howling of your legions, in the holy milk of the mothers of Spain, in the milk and the bosoms trampled along the roads, there is one more village, one more silence, a broken door. Here

And with which numbers does the ant subtract its dead soldiers? Y con que cifras va restando la hormiga sus soldados muertos?

We artists are indestructible, even in a prison cell or a concentration camp I would be all right in my own world of art. Even if I had to paint my pictures with my tongue on the dusty floor of my cell.

Our inference systems may be there because they provide solutions to problems that were recurrent in normal human environments for hundred of thousands of years.

She was like a windflower trembling on its slender stem, so fragile you feel it can't possibly survive the blasts that shake it, though it survives them all.

I thought: And I do what countless women before me have been forced to do. I spread my legs for the man who killed my husband and my brother.

Would you really have married the man who'd killed your brothers? Well, first of all, I wouldn't have been given a choice. But yes, probably. Yes. I was a slave, and a slave will do anything, anything at all, to stop being a thing and become a person again. I just don't know how you could do that. Well, no, of course you don't. You've never been a slave.

They won't want to be told about the massacres of men and boys, the enslavement of women and girls. They won't want to know we were living in a rape camp.

Shotfarfet.

Rape is a crime against sleep and memory; it's afterimage imprints itself like an irreversible negative from the camera obscura of dreams.

it had been a winter of deadening seriousness, when all the illusions and bright dreams of my early twenties had withered and died. I did not yet have the interior resources to dream new dreams; I was far too busy mourning the death of the old ones and wondering how I was to survive without them. I was sure I could replace them somehow , but was not sure I could restore their brassy luster or dazzling impress .

Laughter is the only strategy that has ever worked at all for me when my world was falling apart.

I wish I had no history to report. I've pretended for so long that my childhood did not happen. I had to keep it tight, up near the chest. I could not let it out.

So despite my impulses for survival and despite my absolute knowledge that people do not like to be faced with the cold, ugly deathbed of truth, I abandoned myself to those passions that rumbled below the surface. On June 30, 1970, before mother, wife, and friends, Conrack let the bastards have it.

Leaders who ignore change risk extinction.

Lydea was a blown flame; Lydea was yesterday; Lydea, alone on the streets of Ombria, was already changing into something neither of them would recognize, if she survived to see them again.

Today green pastureland has dried up and turned to sandy plains, and the land provides little support to the herders, who can barely scratch out an existence in the semi-arid climate. Each day is a test of their survival.

Bad news doesn't hurt as much, if you hear it in good company. It's like, if somebody pushes you out of a 5th floor window and you bounce off an awning, a car roof, and a pile of plastic garbage bags before you smash onto the pavement, you've got a pretty good chance of surviving.

Fear kills. Protecting yourself backfires eventually. And living in fear of pain isn't really living at all.

front of Billy, waving their guns back and forth like twin Rambos. A barrage of bullets pelted the metal shelves and the floor where she'd been standing. He'd set her up. She scrunched into a ball and covered her ears. No! Not again. The shooting stopped. Angel raised her head, relieved none of the officers

He remembered deciding then that the world was full of Simon Legrees, and that you had to be an animal, as tough as the gorillas who worked with him at the warehouse, or starve.

Instead of teaching the kids to be weapons, we should be teaching them how to help people with their gifts. Or just how to survive without looking like freaks. But we have no instruction books.

Houston's army would be slaughtered in the same manner if they did not fight to win. Cade understood that. But he wished he was home with Lily. He had spent thirty-two years surviving. He wanted to live for a change. Lily was the first person to offer him that opportunity, and instead of building a life with her, he was here, prepared to destroy the lives of others. It didn't make sense, but Cade knew he had to do it. He