Freedom means more than just struggling to survive.
So it is better to speak, remembering we were never meant to survive.
Some people think it's naive to think we can make love our new bottom line. What I believe is naive is thinking human civilization as we know it will survive another two hundred years if we do not.
People can say what they want, but historically, feminism in the Dominican Republic has been extremely strong. I guess the best way of saying it is that no one could have survived what we survived - whether it was first extermination and slavery, then abandonment and erasure, then the series of gunboat two-bit dictatorships, followed by the final apotheosis of dictatorships, the Trujillato. You couldn't survive it without the resistance of this kind of woman.
TV has eaten up everything else, and Warhol films are all that are left, which is fabulous. Pork could become the next I Love Lucy, the great American domestic comedy. It's about how people really live, not like Lucy, who never touched dishwater. It's about people living and hustling to survive.
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
You can sometimes learn more working with less talented people, because you learn to survive.
When you stand and overcome a significant setback, you'll find an increasing inner confidence and self-assurance that has been created by conquering defeat. Absorbing and overcoming this kind of punishment engenders a sober, steely toughness that results in a hardened sense of independence and a personal belief that you can take on anything, survive and win.
We are snared into doing things for which we get called names, and things for which we get hanged, and yet the spirit may well survive - survive the condemnations, survive the halter, by Jove! And there are things - they look small enough sometimes too - by which some of us are totally and completely undone.
We wouldn't survive if people didn't trust us.
Don't try to drive the homeless into places we find suitable. Help them survive in places they find suitable.
I survive. I survived it all then and I'll survive the rest of it. Without your help.
Artists have to survive.
. . . the ancient joy of helping the tribe to survive is constantly rekindled in the engineer's heart.
I did not survive everything. No one ever does. Little pieces of you - sometimes the best of you - get lost in a little lie here, a little joke there. And of course, the aftereffect is the tiny sob - unseen, unheard, deeply felt.
We're smart enough to know we need to live in groups to survive, but we're still animals and we needs lots of room. In the case of the male of the species we also probably need that-guy-over-there's space. And his wife and cow, too.
We live in a competitive society. To pretend that it is not there is ridiculous. That is how the whole planet is set up. If you are not competitive, you do not succeed, you do not survive.
Maybe New York shouldn't survive. Maybe it should go through a cycle of destruction.
Three centuries after the appearance of Franklin's 'Courant,' it no longer requires a dystopic imagination to wonder who will have the dubious distinction of publishing America's last genuine newspaper. Few believe that newspapers in their current printed form will survive.
It's easy to actually get the ink on the page, but somehow I've gotta find a way to play this. And I have to find a way to emotionally survive playing this.