Quotes About Endurance

Racing at four and a half times the speed of any other conveyance, Tom Thumb was both a marvel and a mystery. The train's owners and occupants first questioned whether the human body could endure such speed. Many of the passengers on Tom Thumb's first run were human guinea pigs who brought along paper and pencil to test whether cogent thought was possible at such speed.47

Gimme hate, Lord," he whimpered. "I'll take hate any day. But don't give me love. I can't take no more love, Lord. I can't carry it...It's too heavy. Jesus, you know, you know all about it. Ain't it heavy? Jesus? Ain't love heavy?

The real hell of Hell is that it is forever.' Sula said that. She said doing anything forever and ever was hell.

There is no protection. To be female in this place is to be an open wound that cannot heal. Even if scars form, the festering is ever below.

The human body is robust. It can gather strength when it's in mortal danger.

He said, 'Always. Always.

No more running-from nothing. I will never run from another thing on this Earth. I took one journey and I paid for the ticket, but let me tell you something, Paul D. Garner: it cost too much!

Good for you. More it hurt more better it is. Can't nothing heal without pain, you know.

The box had done what Sweet Home had not, what working like an ass and living like a dog had not: drove him crazy so he would not lose his mind.

the flirt whom folks called Life, lead them on. Making them think the next sunrise would be worth it.

because slave life had busted her legs, back, head, eyes, hands, kidneys, womb and tongue, she had nothing left to make a living with but her heart--which she put to work at once. Accepting no title of honor before her name, but allowing a small caress after it, she became an unchurched preacher, one who visited pulpits and opened her great heart to those who could use it.

God's generosity is nowhere better seen than in the gift of patience.

The best thing, he knew, was to love just a little bit; everything, just a little bit, so when they broke its back, or shoved it in a croaker sack, well, maybe you'd have a little love left over for the next one.

Before and since, all her effort was directed not on avoiding pain but on getting through it as quickly as possible.

God take what He would, she said. And He did, and He did, and He did.

Before and since, all her effort was directed not on avoiding pain but on getting through it as quickly as possible. The

More it hurt more better it is. Can't nothing heal without pain, you know.

Sethe, he says, me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow. He leans over and takes her hand. With the other he touches her face. You your best thing, Sethe. You are. His holding fingers are holding hers. Me? Me?

The best thing was to love just a little bit; everything, just a little bit, so when they broke its back, or shoved it in a croaker sack, well maybe you'd have a little love left over for the next one.

Misery don't call ahead. That's why you have to stay awake—otherwise it just walks on in your door.

They had become an occasional mutter, like the interior sounds a woman makes when she believes she is alone and unobserved at her work: a sth when she misses the needle's eye; a soft moan when she sees another chip in her one good platter; the low friendly argument with which she greets the hens.

Can't nothing heal without pain, you know.

Men wear you down to a sharp piece of gristle if you let them.

It could be sweat, but it hurt enough to be blood.