Quotes About Hope

Let it come, as it will, and don't be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop in the oats, to air in the lung let evening come. Let it come, as it will, and don't be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.

And I knew then that I would have to live, and go on living: what sorrow it was; and still what sorrow ignites but does not consume my heart.

We try a new drug, a new combination of drugs, and suddenly I fall into my life again like a vole picked up by a storm then dropped three valleys and two mountains away from home. I can find my way back. I know I will recognize the store where I used to buy milk and gas. I remember the house and barn, the rake, the blue cups and plates, the Russian novels I loved so much, and the black silk nightgown that he once thrust into the toe of my Christmas stocking.

And there it is, my greatest challenge: to face the uncertainty of each day, trusting that there will be enough—enough to meet our needs and enough to give away.

My mother always said to keep my eyes open for the unexpected good, the little treasures.

You haven't made the leap yet, Love...." "The leap?" "Onto a cloud of faith believing that we won't fall through.... Not only that we won't fall through but that we will thrive on that cloud of faith, draw new energy each time we need it, knowing that God is an unending source of hope no matter the trial.

When your father died, I thought I'd die too. But then your heart keeps beating, you keep taking breaths and getting hungry and needing sleep, so you know you're not dead. One day, something makes you laugh and you're ripped with guilt because you can. A month passes and then a year, and you've gone on with your life even knowing you couldn't, but you do.

That everything that happens can be converted to good. We simply do not know the good of it, our world being so vast and wide and us but a small part in it

A tragedy tears away a hope; a kindness brings it back.

draw on to change the circumstances she found herself in. She'd build a ladder with courage as a rung. Maybe kindness would lift her higher too. It was the image she fell asleep pondering.

The essential code must include . . . how to crawl from the wreckage when this life falters, how to plunge to the cellar of sorrow and grope for the ladder that might bring you back into some kind of light, no matter how dim or strange.

Thinking if only I had done something differently, the accident wouldn't have happened. But that's what accidents are, for the most part: unplanned. We can only imagine how to pick up the pieces and wing anew through the sky, reaching higher.

Is she become a rag doll? Are the wolves become children? It seems quite possible, there on the twilight fringes of dying. With some faint spark of herself, the little girl holds on to the idea. Even a rag doll has more life than does a dying child.

The most likely moment for something incredible to happen to me was the moment I was most certain nothing ever would.

Keep your eyes peeled. You might just see Christmas yet

Hope, wish, dream, need. Heartbreak, loss, pain, grief. Which was bigger, which was stronger? Love was stronger, but was there enough love here? Was there enough love to mend their hearts and make them work? How would she know? How could she know?

The imagination, backed by great expectations, can bring about almost any reality within the range of probalities.

Keep your heart open, and love will always find its way

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty. —Gandhi

The novel as a form is usually seen to be moral if its readers consider freedom, individuality, democracy, privacy, social connection, tolerance and hope to be morally good, but it is not considered moral if the highest values of a society are adherence to rules and traditional mores, the maintenance of hierarchical relationships, and absolute ideas of right and wrong. Any society based on the latter will find novels inherently immoral and subversive.

The surest way to get a thing in this life is to be prepared for doing without it, to the exclusion even of hope.

Wherever there was a scrap of soil amongst the ravaged crags, emaciated trees struggled to cling on: a poignant metaphor for the way so many Nepalis eke out an existence, defiantly surviving on less than nothing.

Major Chhetri's pronouncement when we'd first arrived in Nepal came echoing back: "Things that start in the rain end well.