resilience

What do you live for when everyone and everything you love is gone? Do you keep going, keep stumbling through the dark, or do you find something new to cherish? Maybe neither. Maybe you walk silently and ignore the blows time takes on your heart.

She's been conned, ruined, left for dead, and she's not going to forgive any of it. She will soldier on, if only out of spite.

It turns out that there are many powers of the heart--among them intuition, intention, gratitude, forgiveness, resilience, and, of course, love.

Each one of us is more than the worst thing we've ever done.

I call you my soulmate because I lost myself in you and then found myself through you. Sure, when you are gone, I will be a fraction but the common denominator has always been me.

When darkness falls, beauty is lit from within.

We are in this together. None of us truly walk in isolation, even when we cannot sense the presence of another for miles upon miles. Even in the worst of our desolation. Even during our coldest 3am breakdown. Even when we shut out the world and spin in circles until we collapse. Even then the light still gets in. Even then the heart still opens and reaches, tendrils of hope curling and bending toward slivers of light. Upward, outward, in all directions _ seeking light at all cost. One way or another, we all grow toward the light.

We cannot wait for the other shoe to drop, when the road becomes unendurably bumpy. If the aura of truth starts to wane and the light of the sky begins to splinter, only resilience can settle things. (__teaming ahead_)

Even the demons are encouraged when their chief is "not lost in loss itself.

In populations experiencing trauma across a wide variety of settings, the portion of those experiencing ongoing PTSD is remarkably similar _ one third. Ecclesiastes says woe to him who falls alone, but that the cord of THREE strands is not easily broken. Apparently deep in our human wiring is the resilience to be a buttress for those feeling overcome.

Proshka was a man of self-esteem. He considered himself a cut above the rest, and had a degree of personal pride. His spell in prison was a humiliating experience for him. No longer could he strut with pride before his fellows, and his spirits sank at once.Proshka went home from prison embittered not so much against Pyotr Nikolayevich as against the whole world.Everyone said the same thing: after he came out of prison, Proshka went to pieces. He grew too lazy to work, took to drink, and was soon caught stealing clothes from the trademan's wife. Once again he ended up in prison.

Write. Don't talk about writing. Don't tell me about your wonderful story ideas. Don't give me a bunch of 'somedays'. Plant your ass and scribble, type, keyboard. If you have any talent at all it will leak out despite your failure to pay attention in Eng

Life's a maze, you twist and you turn through itThe driest of droughts, maneuvered and I earned through it

This has been my vocation to make music of what remains.

An unpublished writer should doubt themselves. They should constantly wonder whether what they__e creating has merit. And then, having doubted, they should take up their pen and see if they can__ make it better.

If you lose one battle, don__ give up. Get up again, you have a war to win.

When we learn to respond to disappointments with acceptance, we give ourselves the space to realize that all our experiences__ood and bad alike__re opportunities to learn and grow.

Loving ourselves calls us to give up the illusion that we can control everything and focuses us on building our inner resource of resilience.