Quotes About Hope

Solo busco una vida que dejé, ¿sigue ahí todavía?»

I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors –

Victory comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost To take it.

Sweet hours have perished here; This is a mighty room; Within its precincts hopes have played,— Now shadows in the tomb.

Undue significance a starving man attaches to food Far off ; he sighs, and therefore hopeless, And therefore good. Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves us That spices fly In the receipt. It was the distance Was savory.

The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear; Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year. And then, that we have followed them We more than half suspect, So intimate have we become With their dear retrospect.

La speranza è la pennuta creatura Che si posa nell'anima E canta melodia senza parole E non smette mai, proprio mai

Emily Dickinson

Dwell in possibility

The heaven we chase

Hace unos cuantos días perdí un mundo, ¿no lo ha encontrado nadie? Lo reconoceréis por una sarta de estrellas que le ciñen la cabeza.

Hope" is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I've heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.

Ma c'è dell'altro? Oltre all'amore e alla morte? Allora dimmene il nome.

I don't know which it is - I only know that when you shall come back again, the Earth will seem more beautiful, and bigger than it does now, and the blue sky from the window will be all dotted with gold - though it may not be evening, or time for the stars to come.

DAWN. When night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It 's time to smooth the hair And get the dimples ready, And wonder we could care For that old faded midnight That frightened but an hour.

I dwell in Possibility—

HOPE is a subtle glutton; He feeds upon the fair; And yet, inspected closely, What abstinence is there!

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without words and never stops at all.

Of Course - I prayed - And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird - had stamped her foot - And cried Give Me - My Reason - Life - I had not had - but for Yourself - 'Twere better Charity To leave me in the Atom's Tomb - Merry, and Nought, and gay, and numb - Than this smart Misery.

What I can do - I will - Though it be as little as a Daffodil - That I cannot - must be Unknown to possibility -

Brewed from decades of agony! To think just how the fire will burn, Just how long-cheated eyes will turn

Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.

Dear Friend - You are like God. We pray to Him, & He answers No Then we pray to Him to rescind the No, & He don't answer at all ...

Not even God can heal; For 't is his institution, — The complement of hell.