Fighter Survivor Quotes

No amount of me trying to explain myself was doing any good. I didn't even know what was going on inside of me, so how could I have explained it to them?

He looked him right in the eyes and saw a man who was great and good and human, who had done extraordinary things and terrible things and been broken and reassembled as a shell, only then to do the bravest thing of all: He had kept on living, though there are easier paths to take.

Today I wore a pair of faded old jeans and a plain grey baggy shirt. I hadn't even taken a shower, and I did not put on an ounce of makeup. I grabbed a worn out black oversized jacket to cover myself with even though it is warm outside. I have made conscious decisions lately to look like less of what I felt a male would want to see. I want to disappear.

Intimidated, old traumas triggered, and fearing for my safety, I did what I felt I needed to do.

I'm not crazy, I was abused. I'm not shy, I'm protecting myself. I'm not bitter, I'm speaking the truth. I'm not hanging onto the past, I've been damaged. I'm not delusional, I lived a nightmare. I'm not weak, I was trusting. I'm not giving up, I'm healing. I'm not incapable of love, I'm giving. I'm not alone. I see you all here. I'm fighting this.

I'm not a victim. I'm not a survivor. I'm a fighter.

We are fighters and survivors. We are here. We are alive and breathing, living and loving, birthing and caring, working and earning. The sky is above us. The earth is below us. We can never be poor. ~ NanaAnna

It is not a single crime when a child is photographed while sexually assaulted (raped.) It is a life time crime that should have life time punishments attached to it. If the surviving child is, more often than not, going to suffer for life for the crime(s) committed against them, shouldn't the pedophiles suffer just as long? If it often takes decades for survivors to come to terms with exactly how much damage was caused to them, why are there time limits for prosecution?

Dressed as a man, her horse unencumbered by anything but the bare necessities, she had the look of a survivor, a fighter, and he respected the hell our of her for it, especially when she slid the pistol out of one of the saddlebags and aimed it at him.

If you have strength of character, you can use that as fuel to not only be a survivor but to transcend simply being a survivor, use an internal alchemy to turn something rotten and horrible into gold.

Every revolution starts with the aim to help the poor, but when the poor get it they forget who they were and become the new oppressors. The cycle goes on forever

Let no one ever intimidate you, you are standing on no one's ground. But again, some have claimed the earth as their own and usurped power from the rest of us. But they are usurpers; power belongs to every one of us. Seek it as much as possible. There is no shame in that. In fact it's a necessity. Either you have power or you are trampled to death in the stampede to get to the top

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.

John was still making comments regarding violent things that he shouldn't, but I hoped he was just being a big mouth. Nobody was going to listen to me anyway.

Loneliness can either kill you or teach you depending on you being either a fighter or a survivor

He told me that if I hung up, he'd do it. He would commit suicide. He told me that if I called the cops he would kill every single one of them and I knew that he had the potential and the means to do it

You were trying to take care of my sister in all that bullshit. Thank you,” I tell her. “Now come over here and kiss me like the hero I am.” This puts a smile on her face, and she clambers onto my lap. I ignore the fierce burn on my side and the one in my shoulder, because who cares about that? I’ve got a warm armful of Regan Porter in my lap. Fighter. Survivor. Kickass human being. “I tell you I love you?” “Not yet.” “Love you, babe,” I croak out.

Every generation that goes into your genes is a generation of fighters, of survivors. And all those millions of lives are in you, in your blood.

We will not die cornered and cowering in the ruins of a dead city.

This man was no pampered gentleman, born to a life of softness. No, this man was a brawler, a scrapper, a street fighter. A survivor.

Oftentimes it is the people who suffered the most who have the quickest and easiest path to enlightenment and self-actualization. This is because they've been through so much. They are survivors. They are fighters and if that is you, we need your lessons. We need your example, so share it with the world. You are the light that will lead the way out for so many people.

(...) there's only so far a girl can be pushed before she becomes her own hero.

Приймати допомогу, що йде від любові, - це було одне з найправильніших рішень за час лікування.

You broke the chain, Luna. Of all his victims, you were the only one that ever walked away and he hasn’t forgotten.

[I]t was in the pairs that the prisoners kept alive the semblance of humanity concluded Elmer Luchterhand, a sociologist at Yale who interviewed fifty-two concentration camp survivors shortly after liberation. Pairs stole food and clothing for each other, exchanged small gifts and planned for the future. If one member of a pair fainted from hunger in front of an SS officer, the other would prop him up. Survival . . . could only be a social achievement, not an individual accident, wrote Eugene Weinstock, a Belgian resistance fighter and Hungarian-born Jew who was sent to Buchenwald in 1943. Finally the death of one member of a pair often doomed the other. Women who knew Anne Frank in the Bergen-Belsen camp said that neither hunger nor typhus killed the young girl who would become the most famous diarist of the Nazi era. Rather, they said, she lost the will to live after the death of her sister, Margot.

You know your a survivor, a strong fighter, because you’re here in this moment. You must believe in your strength and courage to keep going. Despite it all, you are becoming, you are growing brighter.

When the Black Death swept through 14th century Europe, killing upwards of 200 million people and forever altering the course of human history, one of the original culprits of the epidemic was said to be the black rat, carrying plague-infested fleas into population centers to wreak their destruction. This is, in fact, not true. The true perpetrator was actually the Asian great gerbil, who took advantage of the warmer climate to travel the silk road and bring the disease into Europe. This is only important to know because Ralph, champion pit fighter of the kobold training grounds, lives his life in a perpetual state of rage. Why? Because he feels that human death toll of 200 million is much too low, and he will do everything in his power to triple that number. Starting with you. The only survivor of a family of gerbils left to starve by a child who’d grown bored with the pets, Ralph had to commit unspeakable acts of cannibalism in order to endure. Part earth rodent, part the embodiment of death, Frenzied Gerbils are regular mobs one might encounter on the fifth or seventh floors. But Ralph here is special. He has dedicated his existence to fighting and training in hopes that one day he might exact his revenge against the humans he so despises. He is fast, he is angry,

Did you see them? They're kids, Nathan. Children, who ended up being in the wrong place, at the wrong time." I blew out a frustrated breath, tracking one of the angry young teens in topic as he was dragged kicking and yelling from the room. "They won't even consider switching sides. Plumber has them so scared, all they can see if the numbers advantage he has over us." "Numbers don't mean shit when you're fighters have the same level of skill as a two year old." He sniffed, shaking his head at the kid who was finally pulled from the room. "And that's insulting to two year olds.

From the start the proportion of asocials in the camp was about one-third of the total population, and throughout the first years prostitutes, homeless and ‘work-shy’ women continued to pour in through the gates. Overcrowding in the asocial blocks increased fast, order collapsed, and then followed squalor and disease.  Although we learn a lot about what the political prisoners thought of the asocials, we learn nothing of what the asocials thought of them. Unlike the political women, they left no memoirs. Speaking out after the war would mean revealing the reason for imprisonment in the first place, and incurring more shame. Had compensation been available they might have seen a reason to come forward, but none was offered.  The German associations set up after the war to help camp survivors were dominated by political prisoners. And whether they were based in the communist East or in the West, these bodies saw no reason to help ‘asocial’ survivors. Such prisoners had not been arrested as ‘fighters’ against the fascists, so whatever their suffering none of them qualified for financial or any other kind of help. Nor were the Western Allies interested in their fate. Although thousands of asocials died at Ravensbrück, not a single black- or green-triangle survivor was called upon to give evidence for the Hamburg War Crimes trials, or at any later trials.  As a result these women simply disappeared: the red-light districts they came from had been flattened by Allied bombs, so nobody knew where they went. For many decades, Holocaust researchers also considered the asocials’ stories irrelevant; they barely rate mention in camp histories. Finding survivors amongst this group was doubly hard because they formed no associations, nor veterans’ groups. Today, door-knocking down the Düsseldorf Bahndamm, one of the few pre-war red-light districts not destroyed, brings only angry shouts of ‘Get off my patch'.

Our difficulty or inability to perceive the experience of others…is all the more pronounced the more distant these experiences are from ours in time, space, or quality,” wrote the Auschwitz survivor Primo Levi. We can be moved by the tragedy of mass starvation on a far continent; after all, we have all known physical hunger, if only temporarily. But it takes a greater effort of emotional imagination to empathize with the addict. We readily feel for a suffering child, but cannot see the child in the adult who, his soul fragmented and isolated, hustles for survival a few blocks away from where we shop or work. Levi quotes Jean Améry, a Jewish-Austrian philosopher and resistance fighter who fell into the grasp of the Gestapo. “Anyone who was tortured remains tortured… Anyone who has suffered torture never again will be able to be at ease in the world…Faith in humanity, already cracked by the first slap in the face, then demolished by torture, is never acquired again.” Améry was a full-grown adult when he was traumatized, an accomplished intellectual captured by the foe in the course of a war of liberation. We may then imagine the shock, loss of faith and unfathomable despair of the child who is traumatized not by hated enemies but by loved ones.

Admit it, "Lord I'm Not Done Yet" Live it, "Lord I'm Not Done Yet" Shout it, "Lord I'm Not Done Yet

Survivors create survival mechanisms. Mine is pushing through. I push everything to the side, out of my line of vision, out of my mind and I focus relentlessly on my goal. Not sure what you’d call it, but who cares? I’m a fighter and that’s enough. I live each day happy to wake up each morning to my children’s bright eyes and warm cheeks. If pushing through gives me more days with the family I’ve created, with my writing, with my loves— fine by me. Call it what you want. I call it living. -Broken Places

I promise you, every insurgent, freedom fighter, and stray gunman in Iraq who we arrested knew the ropes, knew that the way out was to announce he had been tortured by the Americans, ill treated, or prevented from reading the Koran or eating his breakfast or watching the television. They all knew al-Jazeera, the Arab broadcasters, would pick it up, and it would be relayed to the U.S.A., where the liberal media would joyfully accuse all of us of being murderers or barbarians or something. Those terrorist organizations laugh at the U.S. media, and they know exactly how to use the system against us.

The universe is your attendant. It will bestow you with the silverest of its sunshine, coolest of moonlight and the most fragrant air. Each drop of water that goes into your thirsty body will turn into God's nectar that will nourish the cells of your body and make sure that you shine once again!

I was given fluid and another blood transfusion, after which I felt like I could conquer the world! This process would become my normal: chemo, get horribly sick, trip to Assessment, fluid, blood transfusion, feel better.

I never let anyone see me cry or feel sorry for myself. Attitude and the will to live is so important during and after treatment that if you don't have a good attitude or a strong will to live, treatment doesn't work.

Having cancer, fighting cancer, and beating cancer have been THE defining events in my life, and though it was the most terrifying, I know that it has changed me for the better, forever.

Fighting the disease is hard enough, even when you are completely focused on just that. Extra time and effort spent worrying about the situation can be detrimental to your body's physical health.

It was in that moment that not only did I experience my lowest point through my cancer journey, but as I look back, I realize that I also experienced one of my most empowering.

As it turned out, everyone knew that I had cancer. That is, everyone except me.

Some of this is difficult to put into words and almost a little embarrassing, but can we became my identity for 18 months of my life. I didn’t have a conversation with anyone outside of my close circle of family or friends that didn’t revolve around having cancer or treating cancer. -Kyle

Stephanie is my hero and we battled cancer together. It wasn't ever my victory or even our victory. It was God's victory and he allowed us to share it together.

Inside I was freaking out! OMG! His hair is falling out! This just got real.

Mrs. Teague, I am sorry, but you have metastatic Ovarian Cancer." After about a minute or two, I turned back to him and looked at him and said, "No, I have two small children!

Cancer represents a very specific, emotional uniqueness of your body failing you, generally through no fault of your own. But please know that no matter how hard or bad you believe your situation to be, there is somebody out there who's got it worse.

When I was initially diagnosed with cancer, I questioned God's reasoning for giving me such a debilitating disease. But then it dawned on me: He chose me to give this disease because He knew that I could handle it!

I had been looking forward to actually beginning to fight this disease, this foreign invader that had kidnapped my spirit and ransacked my body )like the Dothraki in Game of Thrones would have certainly done.)

What if we treated racism in the way we treat cancer? What has historically been effective at combatting racism is analogous to what has been effective at combatting cancer. I am talking about the treatment methods that gave me a chance at life, that give millions of cancer fighters and survivors like me, like you, like our loved ones, a chance at life. The treatment methods that gave millions of our relatives and friends and idols who did not survive cancer a chance at a few more days, months, years of life. What if humans connected the treatment plans?

No hair? Don’t care!!

Without hair, A queen is still a queen’.

His eyes are daring me to protest, daring me to tell him I've had enough and I can't take this. Little does he know, he'll be breaking before I do. He's a fighter...but I'm a survivor. And survivors always win in the end.

The Afghans, the Iraqis, the Yemenis, the Pakistanis, and the Somalis know what American military forces do. They do not need to read WikiLeaks. It is we who remain ignorant. Our terror is delivered daily to the wretched of the earth with industrial weapons. But to us, it is left behind on city and village streets by our missiles, drones, and fighter jets. We do not listen to the wails and shrieks of parents embracing the shattered bodies of their children. We do not see the survivors of air attacks bury their mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. We are not conscious of the long night of collective humiliation, repression, and powerlessness that characterizes existence in Israel's occupied territories, Iraq, and Afghanistan. We do not see the boiling anger that war and injustice turn into a cauldron of hate over time. We are not aware of the very natural lust for revenge against those who carry out or symbolize this oppression. We see only the final pyrotechnics of terror, the shocking moment when the rage erupts into an inchoate fury and the murder of innocents. And willfully uninformed, we do not understand our own complicity. We self-righteously condemn the killers as subhuman savages who deserve more of the violence that created them. This is a recipe for endless terror.

There Is A Superwoman Her name may not be popular Have never seen her face on a billboard But she is worth more! She may not have much in her pocket Yet she makes a plan for survival On her own, she is a survivor She loves, she laughs Even when her heart is bleeding She puts smiles on other people’s faces Secures a good future for her offspring From autumn to spring, she is reliable Like a rare gem, she is so valuable Her wisdom is beyond understanding A unique creative Always in the art of making history Great contributor to society Wonderful soul she is Real fighter for her rights Who changes many lives Superpower in the universe No matter what comes her way She can handle it You know why? She is a Superwoman

If cancer can, you too can, fight.

You don’t have to lie to tell the truth. One lie of what is happening or what happened makes the whole thing unbelievable and questionable. Most cases are thrown out in court not because the incident didn’t happen, but it is because someone lied when testifying because they wanted so much conviction and to make the other person pay.

In a world filled with challenges and complexities, it's easy to get lost in the chaos, but remember, within each of us lies the power to navigate and conquer. (I Am A Survivor speech August 12, 2023)

She was brave enough to fight with the potential enemies from other companies. Most often, it ended in defeats, tears and bruises from punches. Nonetheless, she was a survivor and a warrior from the very start.

No. You just found out who you are.” “A killer?” “A fighter. A survivor. A fucking warrior. You already proved it once when you looked me in the eye and pulled that trigger. No man will ever break your will. No monster will ever claim you.

You’re one of mine now,” he said, brushing back her hair with his other hand before leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Wild, a survivor, a fighter, you do this pack proud.

Nesta arched a brow at the book. “What’s Merrill researching, anyway?” Gwyn frowned. “Lots of things. Merrill’s brilliant. Horrible, but brilliant. When she first came here, she was obsessed with theories regarding the existence of different realms—different worlds. Living on top of each other without even knowing it. Whether there is merely one existence, our existence, or if it might be possible for worlds to overlap, occupying the same space but separated by time and a whole bunch of other things I can’t even begin to explain to you because I barely understand them myself.” Nesta’s brows rose. “Really?” “Some philosophers believe there are eleven worlds like that. And some believe there are as many as twenty-six, the last one being Time itself, which …” Gwyn’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Honestly, I looked at some of her early research and my eyes bled just reading her theorizing and formulas.” Nesta chuckled. “I can imagine. But she’s researching something else now?” “Yes, thank the Cauldron. She’s writing a comprehensive history of the Valkyries.” “The who?” “A clan of female warriors from another territory. They were better fighters than the Illyrians, even. The Valkyrie name was just a title, though—they weren’t a race like the Illyrians. They hailed from every type of Fae, usually recruited from birth or early childhood. They had three stages of training: Novice, Blade, and finally Valkyrie. To become one was the highest honor in their land. Their territory is gone now, subsumed into others.” “And the Valkyries are gone, too?” “Yes.” Gwyn sighed. “Valkyries existed for millennia. But the War—the one five hundred years ago—wiped out most of them, and the few survivors were elderly enough to quickly fade into old age and die afterward. From the shame, legend claims. They let themselves die, rather than face the shame of their lost battle and surviving when their sisters had not.

I will fight forever, for my life, for my freedom, for every bit of light left in this dark world.

Хірурги часто розповідають, що їм доводиться робити людям боляче, щоб ті жили. Я думаю, що так само часом доводиться говорити одне одному правду, щоб жити далі.

Ми не знаємо, що буде з нами за годину, за рік, п’ять або двадцять п’ять років. Усі під небом. Так, і воно часто дає сигнали, але щастя залежить тільки від нас самих, ні від кого більше. Живіть на повну. Ризикуйте, закохуйтеся, подорожуйте, цінуйте й перестаньте зважати на те, що думають про вас ті, хто не заслуговує й на мить ваших думок. Позбудь­теся токсичних людей навколо. Відпустіть тих, хто зневірює. Оточіть себе тими, хто любить і дбає.... Не відкладайте на завтра можливість бути щасливими. Приймайте себе такими, якими ви є. Любіть... Рак — дурак. Але він навчив мене любити і боротися. У кожного своя історія боротьби із цим недугом. Мені пощастило його здолати. Комусь — ні. Хвороба не обирає. Лікування не зав­жди ефективне. Але те, що знаю напевно: ви ніколи не зможете здолати рак, якщо опустите руки. Не відкладайте життя на потім. Живіть кожен день, як останній. А небо... Небо зав­жди за нас!

We’re survivors. There’s nothing we can’t do.