Quotes On Moving Up Novels & Stories

Their golden caps peeking out from the dark soil. "The best things don't grow where the path is flat. You have to climb for them. You have to be willing to scratch your fingers to get to what's valuable." ​"I'm slipping, Grandma," my small fingers grasping at the loose dirt as the shale shifted beneath my boots. ​"Then dig deeper," her voice echoed, sounding more distant now, blending with the whisper of the wind through the plateau. A sudden vibration shattered the memory, pulling me from the warmth of the woods.

I sit—back straight, expression neutral, pulse steady. He watches me the way people study data—patient, precise, waiting for patterns to reveal themselves. “You’re accelerating,” he says. “I’m working.” “You’re being positioned.” That word lands differently. Not praise. Not criticism. Implication. “By whom?” I ask. He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifts slightly, folding his hands together. “Do you know what happens to people who rise too quickly here?” “They plateau?” I offer. “They fracture.” The word settles between us. Clean. Sharp. Measured.

I made sure to move on before starting a new life. Whether my ex-husband was alive or dead was of no concern to me. I could hardly care whether or not he was a good person. All I wanted to do was to cherish the people around me and live a good life. I would live and let live. That was all there was to it.

“About pushing through failures, learning from past mistakes, and knowing when to let go of things that were never meant to be.” I stiffened. Kaelie beamed up at him, unaware of the underlying message in his words. Jonathan continued, his gaze sharp. “Because at the end of the day, we all move on. We find better things, better people. And some of us? We finally get what we deserve.” I clenched my fists under the table, forcing my expression to remain neutral. He was taunting me. Baiting me. And God, did I want to wipe that smirk off his face.

"I borrowed spaces. I borrowed platforms. I borrowed belief. Tonight… I'm not borrowing anymore. This building isn't just an address. It is proof. Proof that growth is quiet before it is loud. Proof that survival can turn into structure. That when you are underestimated long enough… you either disappear... Or you build." "Yeahhh!" People concurred, "You either stand up... Or you die. I stood up. I'm standing now." "Yesss!" "So to everyone present here today..." Her voice warmed. Softer. Closer. But still invisible.

”Huh? ”All you have to do is not give up and eventually, in time, breathing gets easier. Living gets a little more fun and memories will be replaced. You will notice how the happy moments replace the bad ones and all that has happened will still be bad, yes, but you will feel your lust for life returning. Moving on doesn't mean forgetting, it means you don't let those things define you. It means you take back your power over your life.”

The way I’d never had with a father and was learning to have. “How was the first day back,” he said. “Good,” I said. “Ordinary.” “Ordinary is what you build everything else on,” he said. “Yes,” I said. “I’m learning that.” “It takes time,” he said. “For some people ordinary always feels insufficient. Like they should be doing more, reaching for something larger.” He paused. “Those are usually people who’ve confused movement with progress.” “I’ve done that,” I said. “Most of us have,” he said. “The work is learning to stay still long enough to see what you’ve actually built.”

“The higher you climb, the harder you fall.” I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. My actions would speak louder than any of his empty threats ever could. ---

Until one that I had tried blocking out from my mind resonated. “Whenever you feel down, just remember. When you're at the bottom, the only way is up.” Eva had said, smiling at me. “That's the principle I've lived by all my life.” she'd spoken wistfully, “it's what pushed me to claw my way up despite the odds.”

Orlando and I had been together for ten years. I'd looked after his sick mom, sweating out a fever of my own, and where was he? Knocking back drinks with Rosalind, playing therapist to her broken heart. I swallowed my pride at work, getting chewed out by my boss, while he spent the night companying Rosalind because she had cramps. Then, when I got the news my mom had passed, I tried calling him, desperate for support. But nope—phone off. After a wild goose chase, turns out he was at Rosalind's graduation. That was it. I gave up. But Orlando wouldn't let go. Red-eyed, he begged me for just one more chance.