Best 1668 quotes in «survival quotes» category

There is hope for survival of life.

There is more for us to gain through love than hate.

There is grace for survival in any situation.

There is never a guarantee of survival, no matter your strength or skill or wit. There is only the day you are conceived and the day you die, and all else is a series of moments you either embrace or endure.

There is no enemy that respect and love will not conquer. The moral authority for survival comes from respect.

There is no phrase in the streets with a stronger pulse than "Survival of the fittest

There is no pride when it comes to survival, only determination.

There is no reason to assume our species will survive itself.

There is nothing ideal in Nature, because it was not created by some sort of ideal Almighty Being with perfect peerless craftsmanship. Nature as it is, has evolved through millions of years out of the biological drive for survival.

There is very little hope for life of any kind surviving the big crunch in a closed universe. However, one cannot be dogmatic about this as one does not know the limits of human ingenuity. If indeed the universe is closed, we probably have tens of billions of years to think about how to survive the big crunch, if it is not against the laws of nature that something should survive.

There seemed no answer. He wasn't resigned to anything, he hadn't accepted or adjusted to the life he'd been forced into. Yet here he was, eight months after the plague's last victim, nine since he's spoken to another human being, ten since Virginia had died. Here he was with no future and a virtually hopeless present. Still plodding on. Instinct? Or was he just stupid? Too unimaginative to destroy himself? Why hadn't he done it in the beginning when he was in the very depths? What had impelled him to enclose the house, install a freezer, a generator, an electric stove, a water tank, build a hothouse, a workbench, burn down the houses on each side of his, collect records and books and mountains of canned supplies, even - it was fantastic when you thought about it - even put a fancy mural on the wall? Was the life force something more than words, a tangible, mind-controlling potency? Was nature somehow, in him, maintaining its spark against its own encroachments? He closed his eyes. Why think, why reason? There was no answer. His continuance was an accident and an attendant bovinity. He was just too dumb to end it all, and that was about the size of it.

There’s nothing wrong with you at all. Sometimes people say or do things that are mean because there's something the matter with them. With Lydia, it seems there’s always something wrong with her.

There's nothing special about this place, he thinks. We all forget. Then we forget what we forgot. And that's how we survive.

There was a freshness about her that the surrounding harsh landscape had failed to eliminate

There was no such thing as a fair fight. All vulnerabilities must be exploited.

There was one question, however, which Inciarte had asked him and he could not answer. Why was it that he had lived while others had died? What purpose had God in making this selection? What sense could be made out of it? ‘None,’ replied Father Andrés. ‘There are times when the will of God cannot be understood by our human intelligence. There are things which in all humility we must accept as a mystery.

There were two choices in life. Survive or succumb. And most people weren’t even conscious of the path they chose. Because they chose for all the wrong reasons. Love, principles, dreams, desire. The world hadn’t changed. It had always been survival of the fittest.

The right thing is a luxury for rich and sheltered people. For the rest of us, the only right thing is staying out of trouble and surviving as best we can.

There were some things it was better not to know. They caused "metaphysical" anguish, for which there was as yet no remedy. When it was worried, the Tribe was inhibited and unable to act. It was very bad for everyone. The Tribe started to produce toxins that poisoned it. Its long-term survival was more important than short-term knowledge of the truth. If an eye had seen something that the brain knew was dangerous for the rest of the organism, it was better for the brain to put out that eye.

The saving of our body would be at the expense of our soul.

These are NOT times for dramatization and talking, but meditation and praying.

the secret of survival was to balance hope and despair

These are unusual times. They call for ordinary people to do unusual things, just to get by.

These children had never looked death in the face and then chosen to live anyway.

The secret to being a rider in the hippodrome wasn't just that you must be agile, or that you must be good with horses, or that you must be strong and steady as the horse careens to the far end of the arena and back with you riding on its back. It was that you must hide inside your costume a little of a killer's heart. The animal will be tender with you, and you with it, but the animal never forgets that when what it wants for survival requires your death, it will become unafraid to kill you. And so you cannot forget this, either. It is, on reflection, good training to be a courtesan. A woman of any kind.

The strength you seek to survive grief’s demands is not found in resistance but within the tenderness of your loving heart.

The shadow self is what lies beneath the makeup. It’s those ugly parts that you haven’t accepted about yourself. You hide those parts in the shadows until you’re ready.” Her face remained a haunting calm. “When you realize the scars are who you are, that there was nothing wrong with you and that you were beautiful all along - that’s when you decide to take the makeup off.

The sky is stained red with the blood of a thousand dying sacrifices.

The spirit and soul are the body and brain, which are destructible-that is precisely why they are so precious.

The story of my birth that my mother told me went like this: "When you were coming out I wasn't ready yet and neither was the nurse. The nurse tried to push you back in, but I shit on the table and when you came out, you landed in my shit." If there ever was a way to sum things up, the story of my birth was it.

The strength of will is the grace of survival.

The temperature of my blood dropped several degrees, and I took a step back. My heart quickened. "Storm?" I prompted, looking at the boxes on the dock labeled "non-perishable.

The teens had gathered in an open clearing. Behind them, the banded lines of Avion Ridge formed a ragged edge between sky and ground, a rock wall looming above the trees. Ash shivered. The hikers stood in shadow here, the warmth of the day gone.

The thing about hearts is that they always want to keep beating

The thought brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. Winter evoked primordial feelings of seeking shelter and fire. The realization of the unforgiving side of mother nature wrapping icy fingers into one’s soul.

The survival rate of your passion depends on the kind of person that leads you!

The survival instinct prove that we are alive. (L’instinct de survie - Prouve qu’on est en vie.)

The thing I always wanted to say is that surviving abuse sucks. But it's also a choose-your-own-adventure story.

The tradeoff between what you pay and what you receive may hardly make sound calculations in life situations), but survival has a cost.

The undead are immune to all burns, both physical and emotional.

The truth is, living in any society is difficult. Those who become desperate with a fractured sense of security are much more prone to being taken advantaged of.

The two men's eyes widened when they saw me charging toward them. One of them dropped his hold on Grey, letting him sway dangerously over the edge. Both men reached for their guns, but it was too late. I was nearly on them. Fortiter. I slammed into Grey, my momentum carrying us over the low edge. I briefly heard Karl shout, before the wind filled my ears. We were falling fast, and the pavement rushed up at us at an alarming speed.

The universe runs on the principle that one who can exert the most evil on other creatures runs the show.

The world is a jungle and each of us is alone. Each of us is the hunter and every one is the hunted. Kill or be killed. In this jungle, only the smartest will survive. Your brother is smart, you are not. You are a fool, filled with stupid notions of duty. Unless you cure yourself of this disease, you are doomed.

The Vikings could have been saved if they had borrowed survival strategies from the Inuit, but the only record we have of contact between the two peoples is the remark from a Viking settler that the Inuit bleed a lot when stabbed - an observation that hardly indicates a willingness to learn from their northern neighbors.

The way surviving hard winters makes a tree grows stronger, the growth rings inside it tighter

The winds have a force so terrific as to eclipse anything previously known in the world. We have found the kingdom of blizzards. We have come to an accursed land.

The world is going to shit on a silver platter. At this rate, we’ll be lucky if we can survive the week.

The world is vicious, too huge to care about even its own survival

The way I came to miss the end of the world – well, the end of the world I had known for close on thirty years – was sheer accident: like a lot of survival, when you come to think of it.