Quotes About Hope

There is a way forward and yes it is with a broken heart but it is our own way collectively convened, pondered, shared.

In our despair that justice is slow we sit with heads bowed wondering how even whether we will ever be healed. Perhaps it is a question only the ravaged the violated seriously ask. And is that not now almost all of us? But hope is on the way. As usual Hope is a woman herding her children around her all she retains of who she was; as usual except for her kids she has lost almost everything. Hope is a woman who has lost her fear.

She say, Celie, tell the truth, have you ever found God in church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for him to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me.

RESISTANCE IS THE SECRET OF JOY! it says in huge block letters.

Because you are who you are, the future look happy and bright.

But cheer up. Who could have imagined What the world is really like When we were children? We're old now, but in spite of all we learned, So much of it dreadful and scary, even Petrifying, We gave Life Our best shot. Perfection will have To wait for the next incarnation. And I mean of the world, not just us.

Perhaps our planet is learning to appreciate the extraordinary wonder of life that surrounds even our suffering, and to say Yes, if through the thickest of tears.

Carlotta had not dreamed her numbed heart could be broken still more, or that breaking the heart opens it.

her first published book, Once (1965).

Why do tired people sing?

And we kneeled down right on deck and gave thanks to God for letting us see the land for which our mothers and fathers cried – and lived and died – to see again

Mientras pueda decir D-i-o-s, sabré que hay alguien conmigo.

But I don't know how to fight. All I know how to do is stay alive.

In 2005, The Color Purple became a phenomenally successful Broadway musical, playing to packed houses every night for over a year. In the process it transformed the "Great White Way" into a place where people of all colors, orientations and identities gathered to experience the show and to celebrate "God" as Life and Love, Perseverance, Hope, Creativity and Joy.

despair cannot share the same space as wonder

It is the worst of times. It is the best of times. Try as I might I cannot find a more appropriate opening for this volume: it helps tremendously that these words have been spoken before and, thanks to Charles Dickens, written at the beginning of A Tale of Two Cities.

When a movement awakens people to the possibilities of life, it seems unfair to frustrate them by then denying what they had thought was offered. But what was offered? What was promised? What was it all about? What good did it do? Would it have been better, as some have suggested, to leave the Negro people as they were, unawakened, unallied with one another, unhopeful about what to expect for their children in some future world?

I think part of my illogical despair had been due to my sense of political powerlessness, caused to some extent by a lack of living models.

LA RESISTENCIA ES EL SECRETO DE LA ALEGRÍA!, dice en grandes letras de molde. Hay un estruendo como si el mundo se quebrara y abriera. Vuelvo adentro. Ya no soy más. Y estoy satisfecha.

We will never regret having been born in this cruel time for we recognize it for what it is: the time of fullness of heart.

I am telling you Discouraged One we will win. And I will show you why. We are the offspring of the ignorantly discarded: we conjure sunrise with our smiles and provoke music out of trash. Who can completely disappear such genius?

The mountain of despair has dwindled, and the stone of hope has size and shape, and can be fondled by the eyes and by the hand. But freedom has always been an elusive tease, and in the very act of grabbing for it one can become shackled.

She say, Celie, tell the truth, have you ever found God in church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for him to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me. And I think all the other folks did too. They come to church to share God, not find God.

I know I should be grateful, and I am. Parents are good. Sisters are good. I'm still alive. But that's not really enough, is it? That's low-bar shit. Living is more than surviving and scraping by, as if one should be grateful to have a pulse.