Quotes About Hope

In qualche modo è come quando avevamo diciassette anni. Crediamo che la disperazione ci bloccherà completamente, ma non lo fa, si incapsula in un punto scuro da qualche parte dentro di noi, e costringe il resto del sistema a funzionare , a occuparsi di cose pratiche che forse non sono importanti ma che ci tengono in movimento, garantendo che in qualche modo siamo vivi.

Where's tomorrow?

It was nearly winter. I had just seen a friend die, and was again beginning to take pleasure in my own existence. This friend, who thought of himself as the "first man to experience pain", had nevertheless tried up to the last moment to wish death away. I was thankful for all things and decreed: Enjoy yourself, take advantage of your days of good health.

Sorrow beyond dreams.

the best of all possible worlds

I think now that maybe true sweetness can only happen in limbo.

Did you ever read the Bible? I mean sit down and read it like it was a book? Check out Lamentations. That's where we're at, pretty much. Pretty much lamenting. Pretty much pouring our hearts out like water.

I think now that maybe true sweetness can only happen in limbo. I don't know why. Is it because we are so unsure, so tentative and waiting? Like it needs that much room, that much space to expand. The not knowing anything really, the hoping, the aching transience: This is not real, not really, and so we let it alone, let it unfold lightly. Those times that can fly.

we can proceed in our lives just as easily from love to love as from loss to loss. A good thing to remember in the middle of the night when you're not sure how you will get through the next three breaths.

She thought that one might not make a dent in the Great Sadness, but one could help make another person whole.

You can pull a goat off into the field, but a memory you can only haul into the sun and hope it desiccates. Dries to something crumbled and odorless.

the craggy gorge reminded me that we can proceed in our lives just as easily from love to love as from loss to loss. A good thing to remember in the middle of the night when you're not sure how you will get through the next three breaths.

That is what we are, what we do: nose a net, push push, a net that never exists. The knots in the mesh as strong as our own believing. Our own fears.

It was not as if they lived, exactly, but maybe they were not lost forever to the great dark. That they endured in the weather and the seasons.

This was our ritual while we waited for our lives to truly begin and I think now that maybe true sweetness can only happen in limbo. I don't know why. Is it because we are so unsure, so tentative and waiting? Like it needs that much room, that much space to expand. The not knowing anything really, the hoping, the aching transience: This is not real, not really, and so we let it alone, let it unfold lightly. Those times that can fly. That's the way it seems now looking back.

If we all knew what was coming, maybe we wouldn't even stick around for it. Time present and time future.

Heels up, of course, for good luck.

The dead goats multiply. You can pull a goat off into the field, but a memory you can only haul into the sun and hope it desiccates. Dries to something crumbled and odorless.

He would turn out fine, too. Most of them were that way. They were tough and sweet and funny and sad, and people like that would always survive. It wasn't necessarily gold, but perhaps because of that it would stay.

So if you find yourself hoping against God, and the thought of everyone being saved isn't good news to you, but bad news to you; if grace burns you like fire – you need to ask yourself why.

Strange Christianity, whose most pressing anxiety seems to be that God's grace might prove to be all too free on this side, that hell, instead of being populated with so many people, might some day prove to be empty! ~ Karl Barth, God Here and Now

The problem with this world is not that God made it good and we messed it up; the problem with this world is simply that it is not yet finished, and neither are you. It's the sixth day and God is still making us in his image and likeness.

The deepest story is not The Fall. The deepest story is not your sin. The deepest story is that God is making you in His image. Jesus is His image, and you are His Temple, Body, and Bride. The deepest story is that God is making you in His Image and will not fail.

He died and rose from the dead saying, "My Father is your Father." You are not an orphan. You are not an extra. You have His name.