Quotes About Hope

sometimes it's hard to see what could be, what we hope for, through the hurting part of what is, 'cause sometimes stuff hurts so much that we can't see nothing. But then sometimes what we hope for, well, seems like if we hope it long enough, hard enough, deep enough, it becomes what it.

I quit screaming at God a long time ago, 'cause I reckon he knows a thing or two about hurt.

I guess sometimes it's got to hurt before it can get better." I nodded. "Hearts are like that.

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying.

There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.

Hope is not the result of medicine or anything that science has to offer. It is a flower that sprouts and grows when others pour water upon it. I think sometimes that I spent so much time worrying about how to protect and strengthen the flower—even going so far as to graft in a new stem and root system—that I forgot to simply water it.

There is no way on this earth that something so beautiful can come out of something so screwed up. So black-hearted. But somehow it does, and because it's beautiful and I don't want to lose it, and because there is still a part of me that would like to share it, I write it down.

weight when it comes to walking into one's future, and if anything can rob you of now, it's yesterday. We are really good at taking the pain of our past and projecting it into our future because it's what we know, and yet our past has almost nothing to do with our future other than being connected by seconds. That's it. So we face a choice. Either shine a light on yesterday and expose it, or forfeit the joy of now and the hope of tomorrow.

The amazing thing about transplantation, aside from the fact that it worked, was that it allowed people to feel again. The thing I liked best about my previous life was the first smile when a patient woke up. Because with that smile, I knew that I hadn't simply given that persona new pump, I had given him or her a new pump that allowed that person to live, to express emotion. It was the smile, even more than the first beat of the heart, that told me it had worked.

You take the bad with the good. Rise up through it. Live in the midst of it. It's the bad that lets you know how good the good really is. Don't let the bad leave you thinking like there ain't no good. There is, and lots of it, too.

Kids are like a spring, or a Stretch Armstrong. No matter how many times they're passed around, passed off, and passed on . . . they snap back." He spit through his window. "Hope . . . it's the fuel that feeds them." He shook his head and spit something off the end of his tongue. "God forbid the day they stop eating it.

Don't let that girl slip away." A single shake. "Lonely is no way to live." He tapped me on the chest. "And you been lonely since the moment I met you.

or does, he still can." He tapped the lid of the jar. "If God can make a firefly's butt light up like a star, then anything is possible.

All hearts have but one request. One simple, unspoken, undeniable need. One undeniable fear. To be known. You can stamp it out. Kill it. Box it up and hem it in. Numb it and close the door. Bury it and nail it shut. Encase it in stone. But eventually, the needs of the heart will tear the door off the hinges, unearth it, and crack the stone. No prison ever built could house it. Those of us who think we can are lying to ourselves. And those next to us. Hope never dies.

There, on that bank, soaked in that water, basking in that sun-shine, lying on that man's chest, I hoped for the first time that my real dad would never show up and take me home.

They'd lost the most important thing and he gave it back to them. He loved this country, he loved these people, and he loved my mom and he loved me, but that didn't earn him his legacy. He is still talked about today because he gave these people something no one had ever offered before. No government. No military. No warlord. No rebellion... He gave them hope - the currency of love - and they loved him for it.

don't pretend to understand all of what happened. But I do know this—this right here is just prelude. Dress rehearsal. The intro. One of these days each one of us is going to get called up and given the chance to join our voices in a song we've never heard, yet one we've known our whole lives. "My dad

Here's the truth: No matter what happened on the stage tonight, no matter where you went when you drove out of here, no matter where you end up, no matter what happens, what you become, what you gain, what you lose, whether you succeed or fail, stand or fall, no matter what you dip your hands into . . . no gone is too far gone. You can always come home. And when you do, you'll find me standing right here, arms wide, eyes searching for your return. I love you. Dad

Story is the bandage of the broken. The tapestry upon which we write our lives." "Stories Birth our dreams and feed the one thing that never dies.

No gone is too far gone.

When you boil it down," he said, holding out his hand and counting with his fingers, "all we got left, all anybody's got, is faith . . . and hope . . . and love." He looked at his three fingers. "And we all gonna make it. All three of us.

Sometimes we have to sing through the scars. Sometimes a song is the only thing that heals the broken places in us. Only thing that breaks the chains on the heart.

Writes over the old memories. Makes beauty out of pain. Love writes what can be.

Truth is, our hardship does not determine His character or His love for us, and it doesn't make Him any less King or any less capable or any less good or any less in love with us. The choice is ours.