Fading Hope Quotes

as the shadows assume shapes I fight the slow retreat now my once-promise dwindling dwindling now lighting new cigarettes pouring more drinks it has been a beautiful fight still is.

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.

We live a dying dream, If you know what I mean...

There is no hope the future will but turn the old sand in the falling glass of time.

The belief that the good in American society will finally win out... I don't believe any more.

It is not the end of joy that makes old age so sad, but the end of hope.

Lord save us all from old age and broken health and a hope tree that has lost the faculty of putting out blossoms.

Listen Jesus to the warning I give. Please remember that I want us to live. But it's sad to see our chances weakening with every hour. All your followers are blind, too much heaven on their minds. It was beautiful, but now it's sour. Yes, it's all gone sour.

Our love of each other was like two long shadows kissing without hope of reality.

And how much better to die in all the happy period of undisillusioned youth, to go out in a blaze of light, than to have your body worn out and old and illusions shattered.

The demise of Constellation is not the death of a dream. It's just the end of an illusion.

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two - is gone.

Retiring for good wasn't difficult. I knew at the time it was right. I was no longer capable of achieving the standards I'd set myself and there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

(Ravic speaking of a butterfly caught in the Louvre) In the morning it would search for flowers and life and the light honey of blossoms and would not find them and later it would fall asleep on millennial marble, weakened by then, until the grip of the delicate, tenacious feet loosened and it fell, a thin leaf of premature autumn.

Well, the future for me is already a thing of the past.

My innocence is a dying flower

I am in an adolescence in reverse, as mysterious as the first, except that this time I feel it as a decay of the odds that I might live for a while, that I can sleep it off.

Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that others have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.

This world has suns, but they are overcast;This world has sweets, but they're of ling'ring bloom;Life still expects, and empty falls at last;Warm Hope on tiptoe drops into the tomb.

What little light was left inside me flickered out.

She has been hanging on to the hope of him for so long that she doesn't realize there isn't anything left to hope for.

Most dreams die a slow death. They're conceived in a moment of passion, with the prospect of endless possibility, but often languish and are not pursued with the same heartfelt intensity as when first born. Slowly, subtly, a dream becomes elusive and ephemeral. People who've lost their own dreams become pessimists and cynics. They feel like the time and devotion spent on chasing their dreams were wasted. The emotional scars last forever.

What do you say to a person who is going to their death? Normally, we would just say, 'Hang in there, keep your hope up,' because there is hope until the very last second.

Tape the sound of the moon fading at dawn. Give it to your mother to listen to when she's in sorrow.