Quotes About Hope

I'm not living in the shadows anymore. I want to walk in the sun. But I can't do that without you.

A coaster gives you hope. You can pretty much ride a good one through the worst tragedy life throws at you. You can even ride it through somebody dying, I guess.

Él rezaba para que sus alas de ángel la mantuvieran a salvo.

There is a God after all. And She watches out for Her own." Dan

You shouldn't dare a person who doesn't have anything left to lose.

As she reached for the plates, she wondered if her life could get any weirder. Her life savings had been handed over to a band of South American guerrillas, she had a phony engagement to a famous football player, she was homeless and jobless, and she was making breakfast for Mad Jack Patriot.

Intenta pasar seis meses junto a la cama de un moribundo y luego dime que las historias de amor con final feliz no son una bendición de Dios.

Si comienzas a imaginar cosas que no van a ocurrir, lo único que conseguirás es salir herida.

Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Life is too short to read depressing books

El amor no existe para mí. —Existe para todo el mundo.

Qué voy a hacer contigo? —Tengo una idea, pero a lo mejor no te gusta. —Dime. —¿Podríamos... no sé exactamente cuánto tiempo lleva recuperarse, pero... cuando lo hagas...? —¿Estás intentando decir que te gustaría repetir? —Sí. —Está bien, cariño. —Él sonrió, pero parecía preocupado—. Supongo que alguien que ha esperado tanto, tiene que recuperar el tiempo perdido.

Don't dare a person who has nothing else left to lose.

Idle to pretend that we have lost paradise. We never had it; it is still to make.

Imagine it. Use all your strength and imagine it exactly. And it will happen that way.

Feathers... drift on the water like dreams.

Half the people in this world have been undone by grief, in one of its forms. Some can endure it, some can't.

She murmured a 'Thank you', seated herself and her buried hopes in this chair which did not whirl round, and leaned her arms upon a table which did not even dream in mahogany.

Mrs. Hale, still leaning against the door, had that sinking feeling of the mother whose child is about to speak a piece. Lewis often wandered along and got things mixed up in a story. She hoped he would tell this straight and plain, and not say unnecessary things that would just make things harder for Minnie Foster.

Mrs. Hale had not moved. "If there had been years and years of—nothing, then a bird to sing to you, it would be awful—still—after the bird was still.

I think you mustn't wonder that. At least not yet. Perhaps never.

Where there's life, there's hope," I said. Hope. How I'd needed it, in those dark days when it seemed that Papa would never be found, dead or alive. I thought of Alexander again. "Thank you," I whispered.

Is it a coincidence that stories from the private life became more popular just as the grand hope for public redemption through revolution was beginning to sour? I witnessed a similar shift in taste in my own time. In the 1960s, while a hopeful vision of a just society arose again, countless poems and plays concerning politics and public life were written, read, and performed. But after the hope diminished and public life seemed less and less trustworthy, this subject was less in style.

I've seen enough change in my lifetime to know that despair is not only self-defeating, it is unrealistic.