Quotes About Strength

Have no fear, you will find your way. It's in your bones. it's in your soul.

Okay, you can be my slave. My flying kick nicks his nose. A warning. Worse if I weren't succumbing to squeal. What a heel. I'm too multiple to feel. A fork ahead. I take both.

I've got to stop blinking in the face of my fear. I must hear what I scream. I must remember what I dream.

Most people fear pain. I've learned that not feeling pain is a much more frightening proposition than feeling it. In fact, there are times when I'm playing when I actually enjoy it.

She took a step and didn't want to take any more, but she did.

Often I wish this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.

If a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.

It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.

Make no mistake, the woman had a heart. She had a bigger one that people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving. Remember that she was the woman with the instrument strapped to her body in the long, moon-slit night.

She was a girl with a mountain to climb.

Liesel's blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled. She almost broke into pieces on the steps.

The point is, Ilsa Hermann had decided to make suffering her triumph. When it refused to let go of her, she succumbed to it. She embraced it.

After perhaps thirty meters, just as a soldier turned around, the girl was felled. Hands were clamped upon her from behind and the boy next door brought her down. He forced her knees to the road and suffered the penalty. He collected her punches as if they were presents. Her bony hands and elbows were accepted with nothing but a few short moans. He accumulated the loud, clumsy specks of saliva and tears as if they were lovely to his face, and more important, he was able to hold her down.

Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.

Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.

Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness.

She gave 'The Dream Carrier' to Max as if words alone could nourish him.

I even move out onto the front porch and see my own limited view of the world. I want to take that world, and for the first time ever, I feel like I can do it. I've survived everything I've had to so far. I'm still standing here.

A fighter can be a winner, but that doesn't make a winner a fighter.

I always marvel at the humans' ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces.

Is there cowardice with the acknowledgement of fear?

An attribute of Rosa Hubermann, she was a good woman for a crisis.

His soul sat up. It met me.Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say, 'I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go of course, but I will come'.

I just know that right now, we want to be proud. For once. We want to take the struggle and rise above it. We want to frame it, live it, survive it. We want to put it in our mouths and taste it and never forget it, because it makes us strong.