Tragedy Makes You Stronger Quotes

When you go through tragedy, you can either let that destroy you and you become bitter and never let it go, or you can let it make you stronger and let it make you grow. And that's what I did. My lyrics are coming from a place that I want people to relate to and feel that they're not alone.

Make yourself stronger and continue down your path according to your own will, and not the tragedy it predicted for you.

A tragedy is a tragedy, no matter what, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t define who we are and it doesn’t weaken us. It makes us stronger.

Time doesn't heal all, no matter what they say. And tragedies don't make you stronger. That's another popular lie. They just make you more hardened, less surprised by misfortune.

Jonathan Safran Foer’s 10 Rules for Writing: 1.Tragedies make great literature; unfathomable catastrophes (the Holocaust, 9/11) are even better – try to construct your books around them for added gravitas but, since those big issues are such bummers, make sure you do it in a way that still focuses on a quirky central character that’s somewhat like Jonathan Safran Foer. 2. You can also name your character Jonathan Safran Foer. 3. If you’re writing a non-fiction book you should still make sure that it has a strong, deep, wise, and relatable central character – someone like Jonathan Safran Foer. 4. If you reach a point in your book where you’re not sure what to do, or how to approach a certain scene, or what the hell you’re doing, just throw in a picture, or a photo, or scribbles, or blank pages, or some illegible text, or maybe even a flipbook. Don’t worry if these things don’t mean anything, that’s what postmodernism is all about. If you’re not sure what to put in, you can’t go wrong with a nice photograph of Jonathan Safran Foer. 5. If you come up with a pun, metaphor, or phrase that you think is really clever and original, don’t just use it once and throw it away, sprinkle it liberally throughout the text. One particularly good phrase that comes to mind is “Jonathan Safran Foer.” 6. Don’t worry if you seem to be saying the same thing over and over again, repetition makes the work stronger, repetition is good, it drives the point home. The more you repeat a phrase or an idea, the better it gets. You should not be afraid of repeating ideas or phrases. One particularly good phrase that comes to mind is “Jonathan Safran Foer.” 7. Other writers are not your enemies, they are your friends, so you should feel free to borrow some of their ideas, words, techniques, and symbols, and use them completely out of context. They won’t mind, they’re your friends, just like my good friend Paul Auster, with whom I am very good friends. Just make sure you don’t steal anything from Jonathan Safran Foer, it wouldn’t be nice, he is your friend. 8. Make sure you have exactly three plots in your novel, any more and it gets confusing, any less and it’s not postmodern. At least one of those plots should be in a different timeline. It often helps if you name these three plots, I often use “Jonathan,” “Safran,” and “Foer.” 9. Don’t be afraid to make bold statements in you writing, there should always be a strong lesson to be learned, such as “don’t eat animals,” or “the Holocaust was bad,” or “9/11 was really really sad,” or “the world would be a better place if everyone was just a little bit more like Jonathan Safran Foer.” 10. In the end, don’t worry if you’re unsuccessful as a writer, it probably wasn’t meant to be. Not all of us are chosen to become writers. Not all of us can be Jonathan Safran Foer.

Sometimes, when you're in the midst of tragedy—of heartbreak—it can be impossible to see the other side. It's like you're drowning beneath the weight of your emotions, memories, you very thoughts, but if you just keep going, keep swimming, then eventually you make it to shore. You're tired, but stronger, and look at yourself in a new light. I think it's our tendency to doubt ourselves, to think we're weaker than what we are, but there's more in all of us than we realize.

Sometimes, when you’re in the midst of tragedy—of heartbreak—it can be impossible to see the other side. It’s like you’re drowning beneath the weight of your emotions, memories, your very thoughts, but if you just keep going, keep swimming, then eventually you make it to shore. You’re tired, but stronger, and look at yourself in a new light. I think it’s our tendency to doubt ourselves, to think we’re weaker than what we are, but there’s more in all of us than we realize.

All my life, everything’s been smooth and easy. My family loves me, lots of friends, I never wanted for anything. Nothing bad has ever happened to me. I knew God loved me. But now . . .” “He still loves you, sweetheart.” Hutch winced, and his cheeks flamed. Why on earth did he call her sweetheart? “I know. But I’ve always been good, and my life’s always been good, and now . . .” “Now your life stinks.” She lifted her face to look at him, so close he’d barely have to move to kiss her. He wouldn’t mind the taste of tears. “It does stink.” She buried her face in his shoulder again. “And you haven’t stopped being good.” “No. I know the Lord doesn’t make bargains like that. I know good people suffer and the wicked prosper, but I always thought . . .” Hutch sighed and rubbed her back. “You always thought you were the exception.” “It sounds stupid.” “No. It was a reasonable assumption based on observation.” Georgie sagged in his arms. “I also thought God spared me because I’m weak. He knows I can’t handle tragedy.” “Well, then.” He gave her a squeeze. “This tragedy shows you what I already know. You are strong enough. This is hard, the hardest thing you’ve ever gone through, but you can handle it if you lean on God. You’ll come through stronger and wiser and even more compassionate because of it.” “Thank you. You’re such a good friend.” Her arms loosened around his waist, and she pulled back slightly, staring at his chest. “I should get going. I just wanted to say good-bye.

19 “WHEN HE HAS COME” “When He has come, He will convict the world of sin . . . .” John 16:8     Very few of us know anything about conviction of sin. We know the experience of being disturbed because we have done wrong things. But conviction of sin by the Holy Spirit blots out every relationship on earth and makes us aware of only one—“Against You, You only, have I sinned . . .” (Psalm 51:4). When a person is convicted of sin in this way, he knows with every bit of his conscience that God would not dare to forgive him. If God did forgive him, then this person would have a stronger sense of justice than God. God does forgive, but it cost the breaking of His heart with grief in the death of Christ to enable Him to do so. The great miracle of the grace of God is that He forgives sin, and it is the death of Jesus Christ alone that enables the divine nature to forgive and to remain true to itself in doing so. It is shallow nonsense to say that God forgives us because He is love. Once we have been convicted of sin, we will never say this again. The love of God means Calvary—nothing less! The love of God is spelled out on the Cross and nowhere else. The only basis for which God can forgive me is the Cross of Christ. It is there that His conscience is satisfied.     Forgiveness doesn’t merely mean that I am saved from hell and have been made ready for heaven (no one would accept forgiveness on that level). Forgiveness means that I am forgiven into a newly created relationship which identifies me with God in Christ. The miracle of redemption is that God turns me, the unholy one, into the standard of Himself, the Holy One. He does this by putting into me a new nature, the nature of Jesus Christ. November 20 THE FORGIVENESS OF GOD “In Him we have . . . the forgiveness of sins . . . .” Ephesians 1:7     Beware of the pleasant view of the fatherhood of God: God is so kind and loving that of course He will forgive us. That thought, based solely on emotion, cannot be found anywhere in the New Testament. The only basis on which God can forgive us is the tremendous tragedy of the Cross of Christ. To base our forgiveness on any other ground is unconscious blasphemy. The only ground on which God can forgive our sin and reinstate us to His favor is through the Cross of Christ. There is no other way! Forgiveness, which is so easy for us to accept, cost the agony at Calvary. We should never take the forgiveness of sin, the gift of the Holy Spirit, and our sanctification in simple faith, and then forget the enormous cost to God that made all of this ours.     Forgiveness is the divine miracle of grace. The cost to God was the Cross of Christ. To

when you’re in the midst of tragedy—of heartbreak—it can be impossible to see the other side. It’s like you’re drowning beneath the weight of your emotions, memories, your very thoughts, but if you just keep going, keep swimming, then eventually you make it to shore. You’re tired, but stronger, and look at yourself in a new light. I think it’s our tendency to doubt ourselves, to think we’re weaker than what we are, but there’s more in all of us than we realize.

Tragedies can contain some of life’s greatest rewards and valuable lessons. Struggle makes you stronger. Pain makes you alert. Clouds bring forth the rain. As a wise man once said, ‘You seek problems because you need their gifts.’ Why would you rob someone of these benefits?

Tragedies can make or break a relationship. Either you get stronger together or you lose each other entirely. ~ Venus Honey Traps

Tragedies can make or break a relationship. Either you get stronger together or you lose each other entirely. ~ Venus Honey Traps

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I think that’s a lie. It’s how you choose to deal with things that makes you stronger. I went through all the tragedy in the world and it made me stronger…until it didn’t. Until it made me weaker.

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I think that's a lie. It's how you choose to deal with things that makes you stronger. I went through all the tragedy in the world and it made me stronger...until it didn't. Until it made me weaker.

Some people really like to talk about honoring the past for what it did to make us. And while I basically understand what they mean by that and why they need to say it, I still think the sentiment is an overflowing bucket of bullshit. Sure, it may be perfectly fine for folks with pristine memories, but it leaves the rest of us dealing with the implication that all of the pain or trauma or damage we suffered along the way was somehow essential to who we eventually became. That the hurt made us stronger, or that the loss gave as much as it took. That we are who we are because of our damage and not in spite of it. And that just sucks as a philosophy. It’s a kind of societal shrug at the worst tragedies, as if to say we can’t do anything about them so we might as well attach some ephemeral pride to having survived. I don’t know. Do whatever works for you, I guess. But I for one don’t feel born from my past so much as resurrected from it. So while I might visit the grave of that life now and then, I’m certainly not wasting any money on flowers.

If you should have a choice of whether to laugh or to cry, laugh. Laughing makes you stronger, and it does not diminish the seriousness of a situation. I think instead of turning an already bad situation into a tragedy, make it into a comic strip.

What warnings has life given you in your darkest of times? Does it give anybody? The best works disturb, challenge, inspire. They expand your mind, help you grow. They make you stronger! Help you get through life’s worst moments when they actually come. A book is not a binky!