Best 70 quotes in «surviving quotes» category

Even if I wrote on nothing else, it would never be enough, even if all the survivors did nothing but write about their experiences, it would still not be enough. *Response when asked how much longer is he going to write about the Holocaust

Faith is vital for surviving life.

History ain't so important when yer just trying to survive,' I say, spitting it out under my breath. 'That's actually when it's most important.

How comforting to witness a fictional person (who is also, miraculously, ourselves as we read) suffering the same agonies of a saccharine dismissal and, importantly, surviving.

I am love and light in action.

I certainly couldn't have survived my childhood without books. All that deprivation and pain--abuse, broken home, a runaway sister, a brother with cancer--the books allowed me to withstand. They sustained me. I read still, prolifically, with great passion, but never like I read in those days: in those days it was life or death.

I decided to devote my life to telling my story because I felt that having survived I owe something to the world and anyone who has endured the pain, the isolation and the betrayal of family members.Though I no longer live in silence, I continued to carry the pain and the memories. This is something that will always be part of me but I choose not to be defined by this crime. I choose to give hope and I want survivors to know that they're not alone. I want children to have the opportunity to be happy, safe and protected from sexual abuse.

If you're not learning how to live off the land, then you're only learning how to survive in the short-term. (During a conversation with someone in regards to surviving a zombie apocalypse, 2017)

I had a rough life, full of ups, downs, failures, and achievements. What can I say? That’s just life and it’s expected. The best part is always waking up knowing that I have it in me to fight and keep going, but I didn’t let it get me down or break me

I have spent my life among jealous, and opponent ones, surviving myself from their evil motives.

I have survived. I am here.

I’m fine,” is the reply he gives. I think I am surviving, in all the wrong ways, is the reply he thinks.

I talk about writing and write so much because aside from music, it’s the only thing giving me peace and reason and purpose. Everyone is looking for answers but I don’t have them and I’m not the answer, but I feel like if I could see the face of God, I’d be better, healed—absolved. I feel like a bastard and like I’m pushing a Ponzi scheme every time someone comes to me for guidance and I push them to the “right” path when I’m just as lost as they are. And it makes me feel like shit every time someone wants to look up to me, or when people call me strong or brave or amazing or want to tell me how “great” I am. And then, the next moment, I’m fine, until the next tide of emotion comes again. I’m just a person who’s had a lot of time to think—a flawed and fucked-up person.

There is an old Chinese tale about the woman whose only son had died. In her grief, she went to the holy man and said, 'What prayers, what magical incantations do you have to bring my son back to life?' Instead of sending her away or reasoning with her, he said to her, 'Fetch me a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow. We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life.' The woman set off at once in search of that magical mustard seed. She came first to a splendid mansion, knocked at the door and said, 'I am looking for a home that has never known sorrow. Is this such a place? It is very important to me.' They told her 'You've certainly come to the wrong place,' and began to describe all the tragic things that had recently befallen them. The woman said to herself, 'Who is better able to help these poor unfortunate people than I, who have had misfortune of my own?' She stayed to comfort them, then went on in her search for a home that had never known sorrow. But wherever she turned, hovels and in palaces, she found one tale after another of sadness and misfortune. Ultimately, she became so involved in ministering to other people's grief that she forgot about her quest for the magical mustard seed, never realizing that it had in fact drive the sorrow out of her life.

There was something growing in me. Something far more than the festering hate that had begun too many years ago. This girl that sits obediently in the bath, awaiting her master's return was just an image, a picture in a book with no accompanying explanation. She sits in silence, she answers his questions and she succumbs his touches without complaint. But in the dark recesses of her mind something continues to thrive. Like a switch flipped it had changed her from the pathetic, frightened girl into a soulless demon playing a sickening game. Dragging him in with her acquiesce until she could chew him up and spit him out.

They kill you with fear first and the sword second. Stand your ground.

This the kind of world, if you don’t die, you just keep on growing up and living through everything that comes.

Two great things happened to me. One was that I survived. The other was that I met you, because I knew why

We are unimportant creatures in this universe. We are all alone for the moment. Nobody has ever sent us any holy book or whatsoever. To survive in this universe we must first understand that nobody can help us, nobody but ourselves! To be important creatures in this universe means is to be able to shape this universe in such a way that our existence become everlasting!

You must know in what way you are going to use the morphology and syntax to build your 'how

Conventions, like clichés, have a way of surviving their own usefulness.

For many years eagerly thought by your enemy to destroying your life, it's all one second of mastery for you to save your life from his deadly plans, for you to survive.

For me, those weeks in Boston, with Wilma, became a lesson in her ability to be “of good mind,” in her phrase, which also meant a people’s ability to survive.

In questi anni di guerra ho visto molti attacchi di panico. Conosco due ragioni a queste crisi. Nel prima caso, sono le sensazioni fisiche violente a scatenare la paura. Ne risulta uno stato di totale smarrimento, una specie di paralisi. Come per l’autista a S. Cataldo. Una volta, durante un bombardamento, ho visto un soldato, in preda ad uno di questi attacchi, ciondolare fuori dalle buche. Era completamente allo scoperto e aveva lo sguardo perso nel vuoto. Però camminava all’indietro, come spinto da un primordiale istinto di sopravvivenza. Oppure, spesso, la paura nasce quando, trasportati dalla fantasia, si immagina la propria morte. In questo caso, la vittima dell’attacco trama e geme come faceva il capitano Calarone.

Just breathe and believe.

Live what you love and what you love will fill your life.

My heart had been crush torn and crumble but I'm still here and I'm not broken I'm still fighting my way out

My little weaver was tough, and he'd survive without me, but I didn't want to survive without him.

Never underestimate the latent power of nature. Often when she is most beautiful she is also most dangerous to those who fail to pay attention.

Nostalgia is so certain: the sense of familiarity it instills makes us feel like we know ourselves, like we've lived. To get a sense that we have already journeyed through something - survived it, experienced it - is often so much easier and less messy than the task of currently living through something.

No właśnie, przedmioty potrafią przetrwać, a żywi tymczasem znikają.

People listen to music for different reasons. Some people, -its background music— but other people need it to survive. Other people need music to get things out and maybe that’s just where I’m coming from, you know, when things weren’t easy for me, growing up. You know, music, I felt, saved my life. Pete Townshend, wherever you are, Pete, you saved my life. You know, whether he knows it or not. I wouldn’t be here. And I had absolutely nothing else besides music. And so that’s still, you know, that’s in me, and so if we’re gonna play, if we’re gonna get up and play, or write a song, you know, write about something that means something. You know, why write about, you know, 'Oh, pretty day', or, 'Pretty girl' or 'Pretty people', there’s nothing… people have different reasons for listening and playing. I need to —for me-, it’s much more.. religious!

Positive mind-set is vital for surviving hard-times.

So don't let nobody tell you any different about the old days. Life is hard now, nothing but suffering, but some kinds of suffering is easier to bear than others.

Sometimes falling apart is the bravest act of all

Sometimes, falling back on or using an old method or habit, is like sliding into a pair of worn running shoes and a corset. Doesn't make sense to others, but it's not for them. It's what keeps you together, what keeps you going.

Surviving can make people right mean

Surviving is about need. Living is about want.

The best thing you can say to someone going through a tragic loss is not that "It's going to be alright" It is: "Hold on tight because this is going to hurt like hell".

The clock holds me nowhere. Nowhere. Nowhere. There is nothing else but now and the shifting depth of the 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. I should not have been given this moment or anything else. I should not have this opportunity again to live. I do not deserve it or deserve anything yet it is here and I am here and I Have it all of it still. I won't have it again. This moment or this chance they are the same and they are mine if I choose them and I do. I want them. Now and as long as I can have them they are both precious and fleeting and gone in the blink of an eye don't waste them. A moment and an opportunity and a life, all in the unseen tick of a clock holding me nowhere. My heart is beating. The walls are pale and quiet. I am surviving.

The Complexities Of Life Caused By Bad Government Administration, Leadership, Parental Abuse And Mistakes Can Make A Child More Matured Than Their Age. It Happened To Me And It Is Still Happening To So Many Children World Wide. Most Especially, In Africa Where I Come From. This Is Why You See So Many African's Do All Sorts Of Bad Deeds For Surfacing And Surviving To Keep Body And Soul Together.

The courage to live brings its own rewards.

The enemy plotted against you and awaited your downfall. Look at you surviving. And your enemies can not figure out how. What you have inside is greater than any negative force.

The gift of life, gives you the greatest opportunity to live and chance to rise above any situation. With hopeful attitude you can overcome any struggle.

Their locked hands offered a stark reminder of how many scars lingered … shards of war and distressing anguish forever branded them. Yet in this endearing moment of comfort, their adversity became skinspeak between survivors phoenixing from the ashes of their perilous journey—their burning eagerness for survival overcoming the forces that once tried to stifle their light.

Theodosia, Ampelio called me. It's a strong name - the one my mother gave me. It's the name of a queen. It doesn't feel like a name I deserve, but here I stand, alone. If I am to survive, I must be strong enough to live up to it.

The problem with surviving? You're still alive to remember what you survived.

There's a difference between living and just surviving. Do something you love, and find someone to love who loves that you love what you do. It is really that simple. And that hard.

There was something growing in me. Something far more than the festering hate that had begun too many years ago. This girl that sits obediently in the bath, awaiting her master's return was just an image, a picture in a book with no accompanying explanation. She sits in silence, she answers his questions and she succumbs his touches without complaint. But in the dark recesses of her mind something continues to thrive. Like a switch flipped it had changed her from the pathetic, frightened girl into a soulless demon playing a sickening game. Dragging him in with her acquiesce until she could chew him up and spit him out. My mouth twitched involuntarily. A low panic started, my heart rate accelerating instantly, that pounding of rushing blood echoing in my ears. I sat still, concentrating on my mask. Isolating every single individual facial muscle I could find and shouting them down one by one. I had not had a slip up like this in a year. Wearing a mask so long it had changed from uncomfortable to normal.

The work of my hands is breathed by the Holy Spirit of a Sovereign God for the salvation and peace of this world and people. Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins as God the Father willed him to do…He rose from the dead and conquered death so that we, his flock may live and have eternity…Thank you my Lord Jesus Christ for dying on the cross for my transgressions….Holy Spirit; you are God and you are good all the time. May your name be praised and lifted up high above in majesty, glory and honour and supremacy…Hallelujah!