Backbone Pain Quotes

Please don’t tell me, it was less painful than a broken backbone, a forgotten poem, a lost home.

I thought resilience was the capacity to endure pain, so I asked Adam how I could figure out how much I had. He explained that our amount of resilience isn’t fixed, so I should be asking instead how I could become resilient. Resilience is the strength and speed of our response to adversity—and we can build it. It isn’t about having a backbone. It’s about strengthening the muscles around our backbone. Since

Life has two choices: create or destruct. These choices are the backbone for all, within oneself and outside oneself. Too many ways of thinking are described by too many people that have no idea. If you're attached to your ways then detach, so you can change. Use this detachment in your writing, relationships, and understanding of life. Our future as individuals, as nations, and as mankind can only go one way. It's our choice whether we want the painful path or the peaceful path.

Adversity can create and opportunity for self-discovery. When you are faced with an on-going medical catastrophe, it forces you to take notice of the little things that you may have overlooked when you were dazzled with good health. You recognize that the little moments are not so little. The appreciation of accumulated small little moments can create a happier life.

Reading is a pathway to the essence of who you are.

I thought resilience was the capacity to endure pain, so I asked Adam how I could figure out how much I had. He explained that our amount of resilience isn’t fixed, so I should be asking instead how I could become resilient. Resilience is the strength and speed of our response to adversity—and we can build it. It isn’t about having a backbone. It’s about strengthening the muscles around our backbone.

Dickinson left the rostrum to applause, loud shouts of approval. Franklin was surprised, looked toward Adams, who returned the look, shook his head. The chamber was dismissed, and Franklin pushed himself slowly up out of the chair. He began to struggle a bit, pain in both knees, the stiffness holding him tightly, felt a hand under his arm. “Allow me, sir.” Adams helped him up, commenting as he did so, “We have a substantial lack of backbone in this room, I’m afraid.” Franklin looked past him, saw Dickinson standing close behind, staring angrily at Adams, reacting to his words. “Mr. Dickinson, a fine speech, sir,” said Franklin. Adams seemed suddenly embarrassed, did not look behind him, nodded quickly to Franklin, moved away toward the entrance. Franklin saw Dickinson following Adams, began to follow himself. My God, let’s not have a duel. He slipped through the crowd of delegates, making polite acknowledgments left and right, still keeping his eye on Dickinson. The man was gone now, following Adams out of the hall. Franklin reached the door, could see them both, heard the taller man call out, saw Adams turn, a look of surprise. Franklin moved closer, heard Adams say, “My apologies for my indiscreet remark, sir. However, I am certain you are aware of my sentiments.” Dickinson seemed to explode in Adams’ face. “What is the reason, Mr. Adams, that you New England men oppose our measures of reconciliation? Why do you hold so tightly to this determined opposition to petitioning the king?” Franklin heard other men gathering behind him, filling the entranceway, Dickinson’s volume drawing them. He could see Adams glancing at them and then saying, “Mr. Dickinson, this is not an appropriate time...” “Mr. Adams, can you not respond? Do you not desire an end to talk of war?” Adams seemed struck by Dickinson’s words, looked at him for a long moment. “Mr. Dickinson, if you believe that all that has fallen upon us is merely talk, I have no response. There is no hope of avoiding a war, sir, because the war has already begun. Your king and his army have seen to that. Please, excuse me, sir.” Adams began to walk away, and Franklin could see Dickinson look back at the growing crowd behind him, saw a strange desperation in the man’s expression, and Dickinson shouted toward Adams, “There is no sin in hope!

Sonnet of Superpowers Poet's superpower is their pain, Philosopher's superpower is reason. Scientist's superpower is their brain, Artist's superpower is their vision. Janitor's superpower is cleanliness, Hooker's superpower is practical piety. Bartender's superpower is resilience, Teacher's superpower is curiosity. Entrepreneur's superpower is stubbornness, Engineer's superpower is "unsliding caliber". Copper's superpower oughta be unbent backbone, Astronaut's superpower is conquest of fear. Humankind's superpower is diversity. Life's superpower is plasticity.

such figures as Bill Clinton, Al Gore, Joe Lieberman, and Terry McAuliffe, has long been pushing the party to forget blue-collar voters and concentrate instead on recruiting affluent, white-collar professionals who are liberal on social issues. The larger interests that the DLC wants desperately to court are corporations, capable of generating campaign contributions far outweighing anything raised by organized labor. The way to collect the votes and—more important—the money of these coveted constituencies, “New Democrats” think, is to stand rock-solid on, say, the pro-choice position while making endless concessions on economic issues, on welfare, NAFTA, Social Security, labor law, privatization, deregulation, and the rest of it. Such Democrats explicitly rule out what they deride as “class warfare” and take great pains to emphasize their friendliness to business interests. Like the conservatives, they take economic issues off the table. As for the working-class voters who were until recently the party’s very backbone, the DLC figures they will have nowhere else to go; Democrats will always be marginally better on economic issues than Republicans. Besides, what politician in this success-worshiping country really wants to be the voice of poor people? Where’s the soft money in that?

Standing at a distance ( Part 1 ) I stand at a distance intermittently looking at her, Envying the Sun rays that bathe her from head to toe, While I from the distance keep looking at her, With longing eyes and my head slightly bent low, In the distance rainbow appears in the sky, And the rain drops kiss her skin, And I only glance at her by and by, With a deep desire to win, Her heart and her gaze of affection, I see the raindrop dripping down through her backbone, And oh my imagination and its dereliction, With the wish to be the lucky Sun that over her had shone, Before the daylight embraced her from everywhere, And it was just the light that covered her, And in this light she was everywhere, Now it was the light and her, and just her, While I stood in the distance waiting for my chance, Turning my head and ogling at her, Hoping she would smile someday, and I shall live my moment of romance, To be the sunshine and the raindrop always kissing her, And melt everywhere over her skin, And never to return to the light nor to this world, I shall now forever reside in this beauty’s eternal inn, Sometimes spreading over her skin, & often like the sun rays around her hair curled, But for now she is busy with the rain drops, the Sun, the Moon, I wonder if she even notices my presence, So I often wish the Sun and the Moon to set soon, So that she could somehow notice my presence, Alas the time too loves to love her, And when the Sun shines over her it seems to shine forever, And time remains there circling around her, And ah my pain to keep hoping in this moment that lasts forever, That she would someday acknowledge my smile, Nevertheless, I am happy as long as I can see her, I shall manage to walk a million mile, Just for that glimpse of her,

I depend on him more than any girl should depend on a boy, but he’s been the backbone of my life. Without him, I will fall. “Hey.” He gathers my face in his hands. His glassy eyes bring me back to reality. To the fact that he feels my pain just as I feel his. That’s the problem. We hurt so much for each other that it’s hard to say no. It’s hard to take away the vice that will numb the agony of the day. “I’m here,” he says, a silent tear dripping down his cheek. “We’re going to beat this together.

After all these weeks, after all of this, I feel that I am finally going to pieces, and I find, stunningly, that as I turn about in the street, I am praying, a habit of my childhood, when I would try to cover my bets with a God in whom I knew I did not much believe. And now, dear God, I think, dear God in whom I do not believe, I pray you to stop this, for I am deathly frightened. Dear God, I smell my fear, with an oder as distinct as ozone on the air after a lightening flash. I feel fear so palpable it has a color, an oozing fiery red, and I feel it pitifully in my bones, which ache. My pain is so extreme that I can barely move down this hot avenue, and for a moment cannot, as my backbone bows with fear, as if a smelted rod, red-hot and livid, had been laid there. Dear God, dear God, I am in agony and fear, and whatever I may have done to make you bring this down upon me, release me, please, I pray, release me. Release me. Dear God in whom I do not believe, dear God, let me go free.

In the extra innings phase, you can learn from your life and live with vigor and generosity and gratitude. There is the belief that when you lose one sense, the other senses make up for it and become sharper. . . Maybe in extra innings, we discover new skills, such as patience and resilience, even as we accept that what we lost won't come back.

Flaneur is the French word for walker, or saunterer. A flaneur is someone who walks as self-expression and exploration. For the flaneur, it is not about getting from point A to point B, or about getting into shape. The act of walking is its own reward. A flaneur walks the City in order to experience it, to fully participate through observation and peregrination.

Pain is what nourishes the backbone, while absence of pain turns a human into haribo.

My instinct is to protect my children from pain. But adversity is often the thing that gives us character and backbone.

Sergeant Dix told me that at Fort Bragg they found that two to three days of constant tension was what it took to figure out if a soldier was going to break. Most who made it to the Special Forces Qualification Course could take anything the Army cared to throw at them for forty-eight hours. But by day three, with reserves depleted and nothing but misery on the horizon, a soldier’s core became exposed. His baseline ability. His essence. Superficially, this was evidenced by the decision to quit or continue, a temptation the drill sergeants dangled every time they spoke.  The real game, of course, was mental. Beating the Q boiled down to a soldier’s ability to disassociate his body from his mind, his being from his circumstance. This was relatively easy during the mindless procedures — the hikes, runs, and repetitive drills that form the backbone of military training. Disassociation became much tougher, however, when the physical activity was paired with judgment calls and problem solving. If a soldier could engage his higher-order thinking while simultaneously ignoring the pain and willing his body to continue beyond fatigue, then he had a chance at making it to the end. If he couldn’t, then the strength of his back, heart, and lungs didn’t matter.  Dix had concluded that the Q-Course was as much about self-discovery as a prestigious shoulder patch.  Katya was in that discovery phase now.  The big question was what we’d do if she decided to quit. She broke the silence after a few miles. “Do you ever get used to it?” “The killing?” “Yes.” “We’re all used to killing — just not people. We kill when we spray for bugs, or squash a spider, or buy a leather bag, or order a hamburger. I don’t think of the individuals I’ve killed as people any more than you thought of the last steak you ate as Bessie.

Honesty is the cornerstone of integrity, the foundation upon which all other aspects of your character will be built. But honesty alone is not sufficient to be a person of integrity. Integrity requires action. To be known as men and women of integrity you must demonstrate your moral backbone. You must be confronted with an ethical dilemma—a choice between one road that is rocky, steep, and treacherous and the other that is smooth, flat, and comfortable. One road tests your fortitude, the other provides an easy path. One is filled with temporary hardships and pain, the other is quick and easy. But in the end, if you choose the harder path less traveled, the path where the virtuous have walked, the journey will make you stronger, more resilient, and more capable of conquering the other steep climbs on your way to the top. While the second path, the easy way, will leave you unprepared for the future challenges of life.