Quotes About Hope

Isn't a beautiful dream better than a cruel reality?

And yet, even if one person finds his way … that means there is a Way. Even if I personally fail to reach it.

Any system which says, This is a rotten world, wait for the next, give up, do nothing, succumb--that may be the basic Lie and if we participate in believing it and acting (or rather not acting) on it we involve ourselves in the Lie and suffer dreadfully... which only reinforces that particular Lie.

Despair like that, about total reality, is self-perpetuating.

like the rest of us he seeks an external savior.

I didn't get anything from holding onto those handles," Rick said. "Mercer talked to me but it didn't help. He doesn't know any more than I do. He's just an old man climbing a hill to his death." "Isn't that the revelation?" Rick said, "I have that revelation already.

In wretched little lives like that, someone must intervene. Or at least mark their sad comings and goings. Mark and if possible permanently record so they'll be remembered. For a better day, later on, when people will understand.

The tragedy in his life already existed. To love an atmospheric spirit. That was the real sorrow. Hopelessness itself. Nowhere on the printed page, nowhere in the annals of man, would her name appear: no local habitation, no name. There are girls like that, he thought, and those you love most, the ones where there is no hope because it has eluded you at the very moment you close your hands around it.

After he saw God he felt really good, for around a year. And then he felt really bad. Worse than he ever had before in his life. Because one day it came over him, he began to realize, that he was never going to see God again; he was going to live out his whole remaining life, decades, maybe fifty years, and see nothing but what he had always seen. What we see. He was worse off than if he hadn't seen God.

There is certainly no hope left of getting away. And it isn't even terrible; it's possibly funny, if even that. It's embarrassing. That's all. A little embarrassing to realize that I no longer control my life, that the major decisions have already been made, long before I was conscious that any change was occurring.

Eric, I'm going to pay you back for leaving me. She smoothed her dress. You understand? Yes, he said, and walked into the kitchen. I'll devote my life to it, Kathy said, from the bedroom. Now I have a reason for living. It's wonderful to have a purpose at last; it's thrilling. After all these pointless ugly years with you. God, it's like being born all over again. Lots of luck, he said.

L'universo non avrà mai fine, perché proprio quando sembra che l'oscurità abbia distrutto ogni cosa, e appare davvero trascendente, i nuovi semi della luce rinascono dall'abisso.

he could remember the prewar days, the other times. Franklin D. Roosevelt and the World's Fair; the former better world.

Yes, these new young people, of the rising generation, who did not remember the days before the war or even the war itself—they were the hope of the world.

The universe will never be extinguished because just when the darkness seems to have smothered all, to be truly transcendent, the new seeds of light are reborn in the very depths.

I've been waiting a long time for last year. But I guess it's just not coming again.

In a 1981 interview with Gregg Rickman, Dick describes a nature documentary he viewed in the 1960s in which a female Galápagos turtle crawled the wrong direction after laying her eggs in the sand and began to die from exposure while still moving her limbs. That night Dick heard a voice tell him that the turtle believed that she had made it back to the ocean, adding, "And she shall see the sea.

Still enough of us once more to build and hope and make a few simple plans.

Maybe there's a machine in Berkeley that will save me, too. Perhaps my problems can be automated out of existence.

The mind is strange, but it has its reasons. The mind sees in a single glimpse life unlived, hopes unrewarded, emptiness and silence where there should have been noise and love. . . . my mind had the solemn task of rearranging past reality in order that I could go on, and it was not doing a good job.

To be reborn again, as the Tibetan Book of the Dead says. It really is true. Christ, I hope so. Because in that case we all can meet again. In, as in Winnie-the-Pooh, another part of the forest, where a boy and his bear will always be playing...a category, he thought, imperishable. Like all of us. We will all wind up with Pooh, in a clearer, more durable new place.

We can travel anywhere we want, even to other planets. And for what? To sit day after day, declining in morale and hope. Falling into an interminable ennui.

It was like, he had once thought, a little plastic boat that would sail on forever, without incident, until it finally sank, which would be a secret relief to all.

Even if one person finds a way, it means there is a way.