Quotes About Hope

We can be content in whatever situation we're in, as long as we trust the Lord for what's good for us.

Take a minute, take a breath, and remember—God's still on His throne. He's always in control, even when we want to be. And sometimes his blessings of provision bring more work, more responsibility and more joy than we can imagine.

It is not over, this birthing. There are always newer skies into which God can throw stars.

If you give up then someday you might give up on your own life.

Nooit meer oorlog - Houpline

Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where misfortune had abandoned us.

If I can't have love, if I can't find peace, give me a bitter glory.

I've ceased to smile long ago, The bitter winds now chill my lips, Another hope was just let go, Another song was added since. Against my will, I'll cede this song To people's laughter and offense, Because love's silence for the soul Is too unbearably immense.

I have long had this premonition of a bright day and a deserted house

Seaside gusts of wind, And a house in which we don't live, And the shadow of a cherished cedar In front of a forbidden window... Perhaps there is someone in this world To whom I could send all these lines. Well then! Let the lips smile bitterly And a tremor touch the heart again.

All my contemporaries— hundred-and-fivers or convicts— will tell you how we lived in barely sentient fear, raising children for the executioner, prison, or the torture chamber.

First as a serpent, it'll cast its spell Next to your heart, curled up. Then it'll come as a dove as well, Cooing for days nonstop.

Whether to look for you on earth -- I don't know if you're dead or you live -- Or about you in the evening I should for you, departed, grieve. All is for you: and the daily prayer And the sleeplessness' swooning flame And the white flock of my poems And my eyes' blue violent flame. No one was dearer to me, no one, No one left me this bereft, Not even he who betrayed me to torment, Not even he who caressed, then left.

Each and every day, I get One letter like a bride. I'm responding to my friend, Writing late at night: "On my way into the dark, I've stopped in white death's den. My dear, don't leave an evil mark On another man." And a brilliant star gleams Between two trees at night, Calmly promising that dreams Will soon be satisfied.

What was in our stars That destined us for sorrow?

I have ceased and desisted from smiling The frosty wind chills lips - say so long To one hope of which will be lesser, Instead there will be one more song. And this song, without my volition, I will give out for laughter and parable, For this that the silence of love Is to me simply unbearable.

Wiem ju?, jak si? twarz zapada w sobie, Jak wzrok gasi b?onka strachu szklista, Jak cierpienie na policzkach ??obi Twarde znaki klinowego pisma, Jak si? jasne albo czarne w?osy W mgnieniu oka w srebro zmieni? mog?, Jak si? u?miech z pokornych warg p?oszy I jak suchy ?miech dygocze trwog?. I nie modl? si? za siebie, Bo?e: Za nas wszystkie, ustawione sznurem W skwarze lipca i w styczniowym mrozie Pod czerwonym ociemnia?ym murem.

Forgive me that I felt forsaken, That grief and angst were all I knew. Forgive me that I kept mistaking Too many other men for you.

All promised him to me: The heaven's edge, dark and kind, And lovely Christmas sleep And multi-ringing Easter wind, And the red branches of a twig, And waterfalls inside a park, And two dragonflies On rusty iron of a bulwark. And I could not disbelieve, That he'll befriend me all alone When on the mountain slopes I went Along hot pathway made of stone.

What if we accept these points of light, their translucence, their brightness; what if we let ourselves enjoy this, stop fearing it, get used to it; what if we come to believe in it, to expect it, to be impressed upon by it; what if we take hope and forgo our ancient heritage and instead, and infused, begin to entrain with it, with ourselves then to radiate it; what if we do that, get educated up to that, and then, just like that, the light goes off or is snatched away?

Because of the violence that has been at work in my family for generations, I can't name one relative who believes that he or she is loveable, worthy of kindness, deserving of care, attention, gentleness. This is what violence does; it squeezes us down into creatures we are not meant to be, so self-loathing and fearful that it hurts too much to hope, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to begin badly, or end badly. Moments of joy and pleasure regarded with suspicion.

Disconnecting from my young self was a way of putting distance between the tragedy of those years and a future that seemed inaccessible.

I don't know what I've done to deserve such kindness." The countess's eyes sparkled, as if she concealed a delightful secret. "Don't you know, my dear? Really?" Campion stared at her, puzzled. "I didn't save your dog." "Perhaps not." The countess smiled. "But I hope that you might save my son." Oh,

The mattress shifted as he turned to look at her. Perhaps the darkness would hide her weeping. A futile hope. She'd long ago noted the acuteness of his senses. "Oh, my dear." Unerringly, he reached out and captured a tear in his fingers. Another tear, another. She closed her eyes and struggled for composure. "Crying won't help," she said huskily. "Sometimes it's all we can do." His voice caressed her like black silk.