Quotes About Hope

before them: the girls whose hearts were to be wrung were yet fair little maidens a-star with hopes and dreams.

But you like to cry over stories? Oh, yes, in the middle of them. But I like everything to come right at last. I must have one pathetic scene in it, said Anne thoughtfully. I might let ROBERT RAY be injured in an accident and have a death scene. No, you mustn't kill BOBBY off, declared Diana, laughing. He belongs to me and I want him to live and flourish. Kill somebody else if you have to. For

God is in heaven, all's right with the world - Anne Shirley

Well, hope for your thrilling career - but remember that if there is to be drama in your life somebody must pay the piper in the coin of suffering. If not you - then someone else.

Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.

After all, it is fairy tales the world wants. Real life is all the real life we want. Give us something better in books.

Mi vida es un perfecto cementerio de esperanzas enterradas.

Looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them. You mayn't get the things themselves; but nothing can prevent you from having the fun of looking forward to them.

It doesn't hurt to love if you do not hope to be loved in return. I've never hoped to be loved in return--but it hurts damnably, said Roger.

Don't give up all your romance, Anne," he whispered shyly, "a little of it is a good thing—not too much, of course—but keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of it.

Don't give up all your romance, Anne, he whispered shyly, a little of it is a good thing—not too much, of course—but keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of

I will keep faith, Walter

I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return.

Non è mai prudente pensare che per noi sia già finita. Quando crediamo di aver scritto la parola fine sulla nostra storia, ecco che il destino usa lo stratagemma di voltare pagina e ci svela che c'è un capitolo ancora.

Is there laughter in your face yet, Rilla? I hope so. The world will need laughter and courage more than ever in the years that will come next. I don't want to preach—this isn't any time for it.

wounded prisoners. I wish I could hope, Miss Oliver—it would help, I suppose. But hope seems dead in me. I can't hope without some reason for it—and there is no reason. When Miss Oliver had gone to her own room and Rilla was lying on her bed in the moonlight, praying desperately for a little strength, Susan stepped in like a gaunt shadow and sat down beside her. Rilla, dear, do not you worry. Little Jem is not dead. Oh, how can you believe

looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them

It is never quite safe to think we have done with life.

Don't you know ANY good husbands, Miss Bryant? Oh, yes, lots of them—over yonder, said Miss Cornelia, waving her hand through the open window towards the little graveyard of the church across the harbor. But living—going about in the flesh? persisted Anne. Oh, there's a few, just to show that with God all things are possible, acknowledged Miss Cornelia reluctantly.

Miss Eliza was one of those people who give you the impression that life is indeed a vale of tears, and that a smile, never to speak of a laugh, is a waste of nervous energy truly reprehensible. The Andrew girls had been girls for fifty odd years and seemed likely to remain girls to the end of their earthly pilgrimage. Catherine, it was said, had not entirely given up hope, but Eliza, who was born a pessimist, had never had any.

Here's to our futures, she cried, I wish that every day of our lives may be better than the one that went before. An extravagant wish—a very wish of youth, commented Uncle Blair, and yet in spite of its extravagance, a wish that will come true if you are true to yourselves. In that case, every day WILL be better than all that went before—but there will be many days, dear lad and lass, when you will not believe it.

My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.' That's a sentence I read in a book once, and I say it over to comfort myself whenever I'm disappointed in anything.

How beautiful it was, lying embowered in the twilight of the old trees; the tips of the loftiest spruces came out in purple silhouettes against the north-weatersn sky of rose and amber; down behind it the Blair Water dreamed in silver; the Wind Woman had folded her misty bat-wings in a valley of sunset and stillness that lay over the world like a blessing. Emily felt sure that everything would be all right.

She had heard her mother say that she loved turns in roads—they were so provocative and alluring. Rilla thought she hated them. She had seen Jem and Jerry vanish from her around a bend in the road—then Walter—and now Ken. Brothers and playmate and sweetheart—they were all gone, never, it might be, to return. Yet still the Piper piped and the dance of death went on.