Broken And Rebuild Quotes

Even the things that look broken beyond repair have a chance at being whole again. It just depends how much you want to rebuild it.

A culture that has a moral compass which always points toward the elite’s conception of good—or a society’s default conceptions of “good”—has a broken moral compass. Compasses have value because they point toward a single magnetic North, not a moving position.

When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone, when the kings and princes are home, when the shepherds are back with their flocks, the work of Christmas begins: to find the lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to bring peace among the people, to make music in the heart.

sometimes the glory was in rebuilding the broken thing, not the result but the process of trying.

When the storm rips you to pieces, you have to decide how to put yourself back together again.

Ironically, I believe Picasso was right. I believe we could paint a better world if we learned to see it from all perspectives, as many perspectives as we possibly could. Because diversity is strength. Difference is a teacher. Fear difference, you learn nothing. Picasso’s mistake was his arrogance. He assumed he could represent all of the perspectives. And our mistake was to invalidate the perspective of a 17-year-old girl because we believed her potential would never equal his. Hindsight is a gift. Stop wasting my time. A 17-year-old girl is just never, ever, ever in her prime! Ever. I am in my prime. Would you test your strength out on me? There is no way anyone would dare test their strength out on me because you all know there is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself.

Who can say where the paths lead, or how the scales may balance in another decade? I suppose I can, but that is my curse. To watch, to see, until the ending of all things. We destroy. We rebuild. We destroy again. It is the constant of our kind. We are all a god's chosen, and we are all a god's cursed. -Jon

The difference is that it’s already broken, but I use the pieces to rebuild it. The difference is that the heart has a second chance, and maybe it’ll get broken again, but it’s already shattered, so maybe the fall won’t be as bad.

Even the things that look broken beyond repair have a chance at being whole again. It just depends how much you want to rebuild it.

There is not enough air in the room but you are breathing. There is nobody here but you are held. You have broken and the world is breaking and we will always rebuild. Do you hear me, love? We will always rebuild.

Nature is like a careless child playing with our lives. When it tires of its broken toys, it abandons them and replaces them with others," Kolvenik said. "It's our responsibility to pick up the pieces and rebuild them.

My terrifying struggle to stay alive became somehow routine. Get up in the morning, eat breakfast, tend my crops, fix broken stuff, eat lunch, answer e-mail, watch TV, eat dinner, go to bed. The life of a modern farmer. Then I was a trucker, doing a long haul across the world. And finally, a construction worker, rebuilding a ship in ways no one ever considered before this.

I am broken beyond repair. There is no going back to the person I was before. There is rebirth, rebuilding, reinventing, and soul stitching with gold that needs to happen.

A SPIDER’S web is stronger than it looks. Although it is made of thin, delicate strands, the web is not easily broken. However, a web gets torn every day by the insects that kick around in it, and a spider must rebuild it when it gets full of holes.

You aren't battling your ability to stick to a diet, execute a business plan, repair a broken marriage and rebuild your life, hit your goals, or win over a bad manager- you are battling your feelings about doing it. You are more than capable of doing the work to change anything for the better, despite how you feel. Feelings are merely suggestions, ones you can ignore. To change you must do the same, you must ignore how you feel, and just do it anyway.

When one's life has been shattered into a million pieces, most set out to pick up the pieces & rebuild. Others look at those broken pieces & decide this is their opportunity to start anew, the bigger picture comes into view. They see more, & want better so they leave those pieces scattered as a memorial to who they used to be!

The end of the play will ask a real question. Like, is it ever possible to rebuild? Or, after time, is every relationship just a little bit broken?

years later, she wondered if that was the point, if sometimes the glory was in rebuilding the broken thing, not the result but the process of trying. The

It may take only months to rebuild a devastated city and restore life and normality, but rebuilding trust can take an eternity — and may never become reality.

Trauma leaves your shipwrecked. You are left to rebuild your inner world. Part of the rebuilding, the healing process, is revisiting the shattered hull of your old worldview; you sift through the wreckage looking for what remains, seeking your broken pieces…as you revisit the ship-wreck, piece by piece, you find a fragment and move it to your new, safer place in the now-altered landscape. You build a new worldview. That takes time. And many visits to the wreckage. And this process involves both unconscious and conscious repetitive “reenactment” behaviors, or writing, drawing, sculpting, or playing. Again and again, you revisit the site of the earthquake, look through the wreckage, take something, and move it to a safe haven. That’s part of the healing process.

There’s no shame in being a broken man. You just pick up the pieces… and start rebuilding.

...sometimes the glory was in rebuilding the broken thing, not the result but the process of trying.

When you care deeply about someone or something, repairs are worth your investment of time, energy, effort, heart, and resources. Whether it is to repair a broken trust or a damaged relationship, take the initiative to make it right and make it better.

The living dead had taken more from us than land and loved ones. They'd robbed us of our confidence as the planet's dominant life form. We were a shaken, broken species, driven to the edge of extinction and grateful only for tomorrow with perhaps a little less suffering than today. Was this the legacy we would leave our children, a level of anxiety and self-doubt not seen since our simian ancestors cowered in the tallest trees? What kind of world would they rebuild? Would they rebuild at all? Could they continue to progress, knowing that they would be powerless to reclaim their future? And what if that future saw another rise of the living dead? Would our descendants rise to meet them in battle, or simply crumple in meek surrender and accept what they believe to be their inevitable extinction? For this alone, we had to reclaim our planet. We had to prove to ourselves that we could do it, and leave that proof as this war's greatest monument. The long, hard road back to humanity, or the regressive ennui of Earth's once-proud primates. That was the choice, and it had to be made now.

And may be between building and breaking we find our lives somewhere. Building dreams, each time, watching them break and then picking the broken pieces, building again with a new Hope more courage. ......And may be this effort is Life.

She would not let that light go out. She would fill the world with it, her light--her gift. She would light up the darkness, so brightly that all who were lost or wounded or broken would find their way to it, a beacon for those who still dwelled in that abyss. It would not take a monster to destroy a monster--but light, light to drive out the darkness. She was not afraid. She would remake the world--remake it for them, those she had loved with this glorious, burning heart; a world so brilliant and prosperous that when she saw them again in the Afterworld, she would not be ashamed. She would rebuild it for her people, who had survived this long, and whom she would not abandon. She would make for them a kingdom such as there had never been, even if it took until her last breath. She was their queen, and she could offer them nothing less.

Loving words are difficult for me. I know my feelings won't get throught to you. You're blocking the way. And so am I. This ditch won't be filled forever. So I'll build a bridge. If it gets washed away in a muddy stream, I'll rebuild it. Are things in life so easily broken? It doesn't matter. It's okay.

After the storm the city lies becalmed. It is a sunny morning, still and cold. Branches litter the streets like broken limbs. People clear away the wreckage. They swarm around like ants whose anthill has been scuffed; how doggedly they rebuild their lives.

I want to be able to look at the sunrise and think about the new day ahead of us—to rebuild our broken lives, fallen towers, and kneeling country. To start over and make something bright and beautiful out of the smoke and ashes.

We house both masterpiece and artist in this skin. So when you are disintegrated, trying to piece together what is left inside you, focus on this: You are not broken. You are simply dissembled for a while as the artist inside rebuilds something infinite out of you.

I’ll leave you choking on every word you left unspoken, rebuild all that you’ve broken.

We began to call ourselves Maroneh, which meant "those who weep for Maro" in the common language we once spoke. We named our daughters for sorrow and our sons for rage; we debated whether there was any point in trying to rebuild our race. We thanked Itempas for saving even the handful of us who remained, and we hated the Arameri for making that prayer necessary.

Trust. It’s like glass. Once shattered, it is virtually impossible to rebuild. People in the past had broken my trust, but they were long gone now, and there was nothing left to rebuild.

The place for literature is built by writers and readers. It’s a fragile place in some ways, but an indestructible one. When it’s broken, we rebuild it. Because we need shelter. I very much like the idea of literature that is needed. Literature that provides shelter. Shelter of all kinds.

But that's the thing about all of this," he says gently but urgently, "we survive. After each known down, each earth shattering blow, we get up again. Even though we walk through hell, and it feels like all we do is walk through hell, we do eventually make it to the otherside. Scarred. Mostly broken. But we survive. And then we start to rebuild ourselves. We're never the same, but we do rebuild ourselves. Because something like this is just another way in which we change. We all have to change.

I know we have a lot to work on, and I know that it’s going to take time for us to rebuild what was broken, but I also know that if we do, we will have something that is beyond anything that either of us thought possible.

No more idiotic could be laid down than to require a people to follow a written rule of government 90 years old, if that rule has been definitely broken in order to preserve the unity of the government and to destroy an economic anachronism. In such a crisis legalists may insist that consistency with precedent is more important than firm and far sighted rebuilding. But, manifestly, it is not. Rule following, legal precedence, and political consistency are not more important than right, justice, and plain common sense.

You are a word doctor. Repair the breaches of the soul. Rebuild the broken walls of the personality. Comfort those who have lost their hearts. Speak words that contain life, power, and health. Use your tongue as a weapon to destroy the mental strongholds in people’s lives.

I still can’t quite believe that this is really it. I’m really leaving. This frigid desert has been my home for a year and a half. I figured out how to survive, at least for a while, and I got used to how things worked. My terrifying struggle to stay alive became somehow routine. Get up in the morning, eat breakfast, tend my crops, fix broken stuff, eat lunch, answer e-mail, watch TV, eat dinner, go to bed. The life of a modern farmer. Then I was a trucker, doing a long haul across the world. And finally, a construction worker, rebuilding a ship in ways no one ever considered before this. I’ve done a little of everything here, because I’m the only one around to do it.

Breaking and rebuilding happen simultaneously. So when you are crumbling, remember it's from the bottom we rise again.

Once trust is broken, it is difficult and sometimes impossible to rebuild.

You become profound, when you love yourself more, You look at yourself in the broken mirrors. Trying to rebuild a final puzzle, In which the crumbs are feeling flattered.

The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings. ISAIAH 58:11–12

The Japanese art form of kintsugi repairs broken and flawed pottery with gold, silver or platinum. It doesn’t hide the cracks, but embraces it, seeing it as integral to the object’s history, and rebuilds something new.

The pier was nothing but a long piece of wood that kept crumbling until it was rebuilt, and years later, she wondered if that was the point, if sometimes the glory was in rebuilding the broken thing, not the result but the process of trying.

You entered my life as quietly as the morning mist, and just as silently, you slipped away. I cherish every moment we shared, but your departure has left me broken. Now, I’ll spend the rest of my days picking up the pieces, trying to rebuild and complete myself again.

days of “talks” about his “problem”? People with ADHD are all too aware that others think they are “broken,” and the resulting low self-esteem and resentment sometimes color their ability to enter into a relationship in the first place. Take this professionally successful woman with ADHD:

Recalling painful events can be hard, but in order to move forward you must reflect on the hurt, accept that it happened, make no excuses for the behavior or the damage caused, forgive yourself and others involved, break the cycle, stay in faith and find a way to rebuild your broken spirit.

Gandhi’s idea of civil disobedience was to be broken into its original elements. It took great discipline. The only way to understand it was to take it apart and lay the elements out, rebuild from there. The civil element, he said, was just as important as the disobedience itself. They had to be considered separately at first in order to put them back together. What it meant to be uncivil. What it meant to be obedient. What it meant to be just. How to achieve the grace of the opposite. The contradictions had to be dismantled and jigsawed back together again. The language of the oppressor, too, had to be taken apart. The civility of the disobedience was part of its power.

The battle ahead requires courage and determination but also knowledge and awareness: • We have to understand the ways our mind is working against us and take steps to counter the unhealthy urges and habits that are setting us back. • We have to fight the addictive tendency to keep those whom we have lost in our lives, whether via memories or reminders. • We have to rebuild our self-esteem by practicing self-compassion. • We have to adopt mindfulness to battle obsessive thoughts of our loss. • We have to recognize the voids that have been created in our lives and take steps to fill them. • We have to reconnect to our core so we can get back in touch with the essence of what makes us who we are.

Trauma leaves you shipwrecked. You are left to rebuild your inner world. Part of the rebuilding, the healing process, is revisiting the shattered hull of your old worldview; you sift through the wreckage looking for what remains, seeking your broken pieces. Dreams, intrusive images of the trauma, and reenactment play are your mind struggling to make sense of your new reality.

I do not wish upon anyone a descent into hell. But if your life has to be turned inside out in order for you to know yourself—if the shadow of a shaman crosses your path and you turn and follow it down—I pray that you use its force wisely. I hope that you take the ultimate responsibility for your actions and that you consecrate any destruction to the rebuilding of your higher self and a more radiant life.

Even though it may look like the wicked is gaining ground, God is still in control. We need to pray for our nations, pray for others, pray for forgiveness and mercy over people. We need to love no matter who we are talking to, whether they are Atheist, Moslems, Lesbians, Homosexuals or Pagans. We need to love them and share the love of God with them and not judge and see if we can rebuild our broken nations.

We’d fought the living dead to a stalemate and, eventually, future generations might be able to reinhabit the planet with little or no physical danger. Yes, our defensive strategies had saved the human race, but what about the human spirit? The living dead had taken more from us than land and loved ones. They’d robbed us of our confidence as the planet’s dominant life-form. We were a shaken, broken species, driven to the edge of extinction and grateful only for a tomorrow with perhaps a little less suffering than today. Was this the legacy we would leave to our children, a level of anxiety and self-doubt not seen since our simian ancestors cowered in the tallest trees? What kind of world would they rebuild? Would they rebuild at all? Could they continue to progress, knowing that they had been powerless to reclaim their future? And what if that future saw another rise of the living dead? Would our descendants rise to meet them in battle, or simply crumple in meek surrender and accept what they believe to be their inevitable extinction? For this reason alone, we had to reclaim our planet. We had to prove to ourselves that we could do it, and leave that proof as this war’s greatest monument. The long, hard road back to humanity, or the regressive ennui of Earth’s once-proud primates. That was the choice, and it had to be made now.

What happens when the past - or more specifically heritage - is fabricated? Authenticity and truth are lost. The thread of history is broken and the lessons it can teach us become meaningless, or worse, twisted to tell a different story - a lie. It is crucial to be able to discern the difference, especially now, when the increase in our ability to communicate is counterbalanced by the equally exponential growth in the likelihood of being deceived.

Sometimes healing looks like falling apart. Sometimes falling apart is the path to what can be built. Sometimes, we go through the darkest nights, and there is nobody but the man in the moon to hear. He always listens. Now you listen. There is not enough air in the room, but you are breathing. There is nobody here, but you are held. You have broken, and the world is breaking, and we will always rebuild. Do you hear me, love? We will always rebuild.

Yeah, the Envoys. They push you to the wall, they unpick your psyche in virtual and they rebuild you with a whole lot of conditioned shit that in your saner moments you’d probably rather not have. But most of us are still real-world human. Growing up for real gives you a base flexibility that’s pretty much essential.” --- “I’m an Envoy. The strategic plan was to kill anyone who tried to backstab me. Surviving afterwards, well that’s a bonus if you can do it, but if you can’t.” I shrugged. “I’m an Envoy.

I was broken too, Dalton. Shattered. Unsalvageable.” My gaze falls to her lips, watching as they curl upward into a timid smile. “Until the day I met you, that is. The day that every single one of my fractured pieces permanently fused with yours, rebuilding me with renewed strength so I could stand strong and fight for you.” She shakes her head. “I won’t give up on you. I will never stop believing in you. And I will continue to fight for you until the day I die because without you here” – she brings my palm to her chest – “I do not exist.

How to rebuild trust Trust is a tricky thing. It is the foundation of every healthy relationship. It is the security that makes intimacy possible. It can be simultaneously strong and yet very fragile. It takes great effort and time to build, but it can be broken quickly. Almost every relationship has encountered difficulties over broken trust. I would even argue that most difficulties in relationships stem directly from a breach of trust. Strong relationships (especially marriages) require strong trust, so here are a few ways to to build it (or rebuild it).

consider trying to forgive him yet again. He did his part, so I returned to our home in Virginia that summer of 2010. I wasn’t hopeful, but I didn’t have the strength to end our marriage—or to save it. We attended counseling together for a while, but the conversations reached dead ends. Nonetheless, Robert attempted to rebuild our connection. He wasn’t staying out all night. He helped with the kids and seemed committed to fixing the broken bond between us. Before we knew it, training camp was starting again and he would once again be competing for a spot on the roster. The coaching staff had experienced some changes,

I do not write to trigger victims. I write to comfort them, and I've found that victims identify more with pain than platitudes. When I write about weakness, about how I am barely getting through this, my hope is that they feel better, because it aligns with the truth they are living. If I were to say I was healed and redeemed, I worry a victim would feel insufficient, as if they have not tried hard enough to cross some nonexistent finish line. I write to stand beside them in their suffering. I write because the most healing words I have been given are It's okay not to be okay. It's okay to fall apart, because that's what happens when you are broken, but I want victims to know they will not be left there, that we will be alongside them as they rebuild.

We can’t get seduced by the idea that if only we just rebuild the DNC we’ll be fine. We really have to jump in now to shape the narrative. The starting point—and this is the gift that abolition as an ideology and a practice has given me—is the idea that the system isn’t actually broken. Right? Because then I’m not preoccupied with trying to fix it. That’s not my goal. All I want to do is abolish and end it, therefore the imperatives of what I’m trying to do—the training, the questions, the analysis—all have to be geared towards that, and then this doesn’t force me to run around in circles plugging my fingers in the dyke everywhere as the water is just threatening to overwhelm all of us. Also, this allows me to think of how we can crowd out the current system by building the things that we want to see in the world, that will promote our well-being.

The language of the rebuild eludes me. It may as well be in Malay for all that I can grasp it. No, that’s not true. If it were Malay, in my limited experience of it, there would be a kindness to it, with declined nouns that invoke a sense of shared communities and values; and qualifiers that allow for misunderstandings, acknowledging this to be perfectly natural and human, and more importantly, a mutually adjustable state of affairs. The language of the insurer, however, is that of the worst of the corporate West. It is management-speak that hears only its own voice. It has closed meanings known only to the initiated; and omissions deliberately designed to confuse. The language of the builder is exclusive; dwangs, thermal-broken, and rondo battens are all terms that are potential minefields of extra expense, if they are not examined, priced, queried, rolled around the tongue for size and spat out for effect.

For what were these ancient manipulators of ideas, prestidigitators of a vanished world of thought, but the forbears of the long line of theorists of whom Fulvia was the last inconscient mouthpiece? The new game was still played with the old counters, the new jugglers repeated the old tricks; and the very words now poured out in defence of the new cause were but mercenaries scarred in the service of its enemies. For generations, for centuries, man had fought on; crying for liberty, dreaming it was won, waking to find himself the slave of the new forces he had generated, burning and being burnt for the same beliefs under different guises, calling his instinct ideas and his ideas revelations; destroying, rebuilding, falling, rising, mending broken weapons, championing extinct illusions, mistaking his failures for achievements and planting his flag on the ramparts as they fell. And as the vision of this inveterate conflict rose before him, Odo saw that the beauty, the power, the immortality, dwelt not in the idea but in the struggle for it.

Covenant Woman Covenant woman got a contract with the Lord Way up yonder, great will be her reward Covenant woman, shining like a morning star I know I can trust you to stay where you are And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be I’ve been broken, shattered like an empty cup I’m just waiting on the Lord to rebuild and fill me up And I know He will do it ’cause He’s faithful and He’s true He must have loved me so much to send me someone as fine as you And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be Covenant woman, intimate little girl Who knows those most secret things of me that are hidden from the world You know we are strangers in a land we’re passing through I’ll always be right by your side, I’ve got a covenant too And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be

Mr. President, Dr. Biden, Madam Vice President, Mr. Emhoff, Americans and the world, when day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry asea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast. We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace. In the norms and notions of what just is isn’t always justice. And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it. Somehow we do it. Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished. We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one. And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge our union with purpose. To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man. And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside. We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another. We seek harm to none and harmony for all. Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true. That even as we grieved, we grew. That even as we hurt, we hoped. That even as we tired, we tried that will forever be tied together victorious. Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division. Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid. If we’re to live up to her own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made. That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb if only we dare. It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit. It’s the past we step into and how we repair it. We’ve seen a forest that would shatter our nation rather than share it. Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy. This effort very nearly succeeded. But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated. In this truth, in this faith we trust for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us. This is the era of just redemption. We feared it at its inception. We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour, but within it, we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves so while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe? Now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us? We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be a country that is bruised, but whole, benevolent, but bold, fierce, and free. We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation. Our blunders become their burdens. But one thing is certain, if we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright. So let us leave behind a country better than one we were left with. Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one. We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the West. We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the Lake Rim cities of the Midwestern states. We will rise from the sun-baked South. We will rebuild, reconcile and recover in every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough.

Even the things that look broken beyond repair have a chance at being whole again. It just depends on how much you want to rebuild it.

Rebuilding bodies is one thing… rebuilding trust is quite another.

The building and rebuilding of the world hinges on our ability to correct our mistakes rather than continue them, passing them down as heirlooms or birthrights so that each generation may be as tainted and broken as the last.

Resolve painful joints. Stop the bleeding before going any further. You now know that working through joint pain means that you are actively fraying connective tissue fibers and damaging nerves. It’s not OK to work through joint pain. Toughing it out is dumb. Plain and simple. So before worrying about your beach body or how you will deadlift 600 pounds, work on establishing a baseline of pain-free movement capability.

...she wondered if that was the point, if sometimes the glory was in rebuilding the broken thing, not the result but the process of trying.

I’m half titanium now. They had to rebuild my face and the left side of my lower body. I had a shattered pelvis, broken femur—” He went on, listing the injuries to his leg and pelvis. The placement of rods and screws the doctors had used to put him back together. My chest ached as he spoke robotically about his surgeries and the initial recovery process. Maybe that was the only way he could talk about it. It was so much. Too much.

When you hit rock bottom, you feel it. You break down, walls crumbling until you’re free-falling. The feelings that you tried to run from suddenly rush up around you in an unstoppable force, the gravity of your thoughts now nothing but a punishing plunge. When you slam into the bottom, that landing jolts you all the way to your very soul. You hit hard, and it cracks the very foundation of the world. The ground fragments beneath you, lines stretching far and wide. And then you’re left, a pile of rubble. But I realize something as I lie here, surrounded by the destruction of my plummet. These cracks that have spread out from my caustic landing, they’re not evidence of my ruination. They’re paths. Each jagged line leads from me and then diverts away, showing me all the different ways I could go from here. But I’m also in my mind, staring at the fissures around me, seeing where each one leads. Because now that I’m forced to feel what I didn’t want to, I have a decision to make. I can choose to stay stagnant here, at the bottom of the cliff, broken and unmoving. I can rage, I can wallow, I can blame, I can hide. I can let the severed parts of me sever all the rest. Or I can get up, dust myself off, and look back up. I can find a path that ensures I’ll never fall again, ensures that I don’t lose any more parts of myself. All I have to do is turn and follow my feet, one step at a time. So that’s what I’ll do. I let myself cry until all my tears dry up. There is no choked breathing or scrunched up nose. No pulled lips or furrowed brow. This is the suffering of the silent. A hurt so deep it doesn’t show itself on a face.

Although the best part about being broken, is taking the pieces, and rebuilding yourself into someone you want to be.  Using those pieces to reinforce your weak points and becoming the best and strongest version of yourself.

Adaptations in your brain, spinal cord, and peripheral nerves can outlast the original injury and lead to structure changes, which include the sprouting of new nerve endings and the formation of new synapses between neurons.

catastrophizing—when fear of additional pain and injury becomes exaggerated. Pain scientists have found that catastrophizing leads to negative outcomes independent of the actual pain.

you can work through discomfort safely just by reducing the weight and slowing down the repetition speed to at least three seconds during the lifting (concentric) phase and three seconds during the lowering (eccentric) phase.

10 pounds of weight loss equals about 40 pounds of stress relief on your knees.

He often told me that our work was not limited to vanquishing demons; that if we had the strength to help those broken or demoralized by their assaults, we had an obligation as protectors to help rebuild that which was lost. Else, why protect something if we mean to leave it broken?

In the aftermath of each one, mankind was broken. Great cities in ashes, industry smashed. Each time, knowledge and growth were reduced to an almost prehistoric state—it took centuries of rebuilding to restore civilization to what it had been before.

The question is not whether the paranoid Germany is incurable but whether we are. All Germany did was start a war; we and our Allies have to finish one and then construct a world out of broken promises and old bottle caps.

Load training is the only therapeutic intervention that addresses all five primary causes of joint pain—posture, movement quality, muscle imbalances, tendinopathy, and collagen degradation.

wobble boards, BOSU balls, or the inflatable Swiss balls.

Pain has a dual role in your body: communication and protection. It is the body’s last resort mechanism to get your attention. You have ignored the subtle signals that your body has sent you: the strange feelings, muscle tightness, reduced range of motion, and so on. To make you take notice and stop your destructive behavior, your body is forced to take harsh action and makes you hurt—terribly. Your pain is trying to help you prevent further or more serious injury.

Federation of State High School Associations showed that single-sport athletes are 70% more likely to suffer an injury than are multisport athletes.

This is the most important injury-prevention lesson in the book: being sedentary all week and then playing golf or tennis on the weekend is the easiest way to get injured and develop joint pain. Even within daily time periods, being sedentary all day and then exercising intensely for one hour will lead to injury. It might show up as tendinopathy, or it might be an acute tear or sprain. But it will happen.

you must challenge your joints with weights around 80% of your one-repetition maximum to elicit the greatest adaptive response. This equates to a weight you can lift about eight times before reaching failure. Unsurprisingly, eight times is also in the range of recommended reps for building muscle.

Who can say where the paths lead, or how the scales may balance in another decade? I suppose I can, but that is my curse. To watch, to see, until the ending of all things. We destroy. We rebuild. We destroy again. It is the constant of our kind. We are god's chosen, and we are all god's cursed.

Stretching has its place. But mobility training, corrective exercise, and adding more varied movement are much more effective strategies.

What she sees before her is an idea of order coming undone, the world slewing into a dark and foreign sea. She holds him in her arms, seeking in her whispers to rebuild for her son the old world of laws that lies broken at his feet, for what is the world to a child when a father without word can be made to disappear? The world gives to chaos, the ground you walk on flies into the air and the sun shines dark on your head.

It isn’t the mountain ahead that wears you out—it’s the grain of sand in your shoe. — Anonymous

It’s so ordinary, I think, to break and be broken. It’s so much more extraordinary to put in the hard, agonizing work of rebuilding yourself, piece by piece,

When all is said and done, Civilizations do not fall because of the barbarians at the gates. Nor does a great city fall from the death wish of bored and morally bankrupt stewards presumably sworn to its defense. Civilizations fall only because each citizen of the city comes to accept that nothing can be done to rally and rebuild broken walls; that ground lost may never be recovered.

Whenever Cyrus feels overwhelmed, like on the anniversary of his mother’s death or after arguing with Jules and Asha, he tends to disappear. Why do you think this is this coping mechanism, and what consequences does it have on his relationship with Asha? What did you make of Cyrus’ apology and surprise announcement in Chapter Fifteen? In the end, Asha admits to herself that she gave Cyrus power over her. How much do you agree with Asha’s assessment of what went wrong? How do you feel about Asha’s overall growth, and her willingness to fix what’s broken at WAI? Is it fair for the responsibility of rebuilding to fall on her?

You’re afraid all of that will stop again if things don’t work out with someone new?” I let go of the string and look up into her eyes. She leans in, hugging her knees a little to close some distance. “It was just so hard to find the energy to get back into everything after he broke up with me. It just felt hopeless.” “Grief is normal. A lot of people sense a feeling of hopelessness when they experience a loss. You experienced a low, but you didn’t get stuck there. You’ve grown and put some good effort into rebuilding your life.” Her words put weight behind what I have been doing lately. I’ve learned it takes a lot of pieces to put a life back together, and I don’t ever want my world to revolve around anyone else again.

It is difficult to move on. It breaks you down in ways you never expected to be broken before. But when this happens, do not fear the rebuilding. Do not lament the pieces of yourself that you have lost, the pieces of yourself that were left over. Instead, splay them across the kitchen floor. Look at each and every one of them. Look at the memories, look at the sacrifices. Look at it all from a place of healing, and choose to create yourself again. Shape your spine, stronger this time. Shape your heart, bigger this time. Shape your eyes, capable of seeing more than you ever imagined. Shape your mouth; give it the capacity to say all of the words you never allowed yourself to say. Begin again.

I’m well aware of the walls Eva has put up, but I’m determined to be there when they finally come down. I’ll be there to catch her, to help her rebuild - but this time, from the inside, right there alongside her. That’s the future I’m fighting for.

Life throws curveballs, some might sting, but you'll weather the storm. Broken hearts mend, fortunes rebuild, and new opportunities bloom. Remember, you're like a mighty oak - rooted deep, enduring winds, and sprouting anew with each season.

I will love you, Chloe, with every broken shard of what’s left of me. And I will rebuild with you - for you.

I know that it terrifies her to lose control. It terrifies her that I’ve seen through her armor, seen the actual person beneath. Now that she’s been exposed to me, she wants to clam up again. She wants to rebuild those walls. That’s fine . . . I’ll let her think that it’s working. That she’s still in control of this thing between us. And then, when the moment is right . . . I’m going to capture her again. I’m going to find her most vulnerable places, the cracks in her armor, and I’m going to split it wide open. I’m going to grab hold of her—stripped down, raw, and genuine. And I’m going to force her to admit what she actually likes. But not just yet. Right now, I need to pull back and give her space. Let her get comfortable again. Let her think she has control.