Quotes About Grit

Now, the challenge is overtly physical during Hell Week—lots of cold, and sleep deprivation, and exhausting exercise in the surf and the mud. But physical transmogrifies to mental, when, after Hell Week, those tadpoles who made it through realize that they can do about 1,000 percent more than they thought they could. They are beginning to think like Warriors.

I have learned that real angels don't have gossamer white robes and Cherubic skin, they have calloused hands and smell of the days' sweat.

Hard things don't always make life harder. It takes something hard to sharpen steel.

There's no problem so big that whining won't make it worse.

My dad had this rock hard body and would work 12- to 13-hour days. The guys he worked with were scrap-iron guys. Nobody on that road crew had read a book in 10 years, but there was something about the way they lived I really admired.

Stop bitching and try again.

All right," I managed to say, just before I crumpled to the floor. "Let's see what you've got.

Find me one person who's doing something interesting in the world who hasn't felt the hot sting of a NO.

Find me one person who's doing something interesting in the world who hasn't felt the hot sting of a NO. Or a door slammed in the face. Or boos. Or a rejection letter. Or a tepid reception. Or bankruptcy. Or gotten fired.

Sure, there were a few more duct-taped tears in the vinyl seats, a few new dings in the fiberglass surfboards lining the walls, but the bacon was still crisp and pancakes were available twenty-four hours a day, the way the good Lord intended.

Not bleedin' likely, Aunt Nanny Goat. I toughened my feet for karate—I can break a four-by-nine with my feet and get nary a bruise. Or run on sharp gravel.

Tough is what you do, more than it is how you feel about it before or after," I said. "You're tough enough.

Hawk looked at Tony without speaking. He had three gunshot wounds and still could barely stand, but

Nothing glamorous like the write-ups in the papers or the newsreels. We weren't heroes. We were only there...

novel True Grit by Charles Portis

Persistence of little progress wins over brute force.

What separates Masters from others is often something surprisingly simple. Whenever we learn a skill, we frequently reach a point of frustration—what we are learning seems beyond our capabilities. Giving in to these feelings, we unconsciously quit on ourselves before we actually give up.

This ain't going to be no goddamn Sunday school picnic.

If life gives you lemons lets be honest you probably just found lemons

And you take any consequences on the chin. You shoulder them because you know nothing can make you buckle. What people don't realize is that discomfort is temporary.

If America taught me anything, it's that quitting is right up there with pissing in the Girl Scouts' lemonade jar.

Bareh tu hazar dafa!

She said this in a pragmatic, almost indifferent, tone, and Mariam understood that this was a woman far past outrage. Here was a woman, she thought, who had understood that she was lucky to even be working, that there was always something, something else, that they could take away.

In cativa ani, aceasta fetita va fi o femeie care nu va cere niciodata prea mult de la viata, care nu va impovara niciodata pe nimeni, care nu se va plange niciodata de faptul ca are si ea regrete, dezamagiri, vise care i-au fost calcalte in picioare. O femeie care va fi ca o piatra de rau, indurandu-le pe toate fara sa se planga; taria ei nu va fi macinata, ci slefuita de tumultul care va trece peste ea.