persistent hope Quotes

This affliction--hope--is so cruel and stubborn, I believe it will kill me

Life can take so many twists and turns. You can’t ever count yourself out. Even if you’re really afraid at some point, you can’t think that there’s no room for you to grow and do something good with your life.

Emotions are like passing storms, and you have to remind yourself that it won't rain forever. You just have to sit down and watch it pour outside and then peek your head out when it looks dry.

Hope is wanting something so eagerly that-in spite of all the evidence that you're not going to get it-you go right on wanting it.

Some people never seem to learn from experience. No matter how often they had seen the lion devour the lamb, they continued to cling to the hope that the nature of the beast might change. If only the lion could get to know the lamb better, they argued, or talk matters over.

Hope . . . never stops at all.

Remember me when you do pray, that hope doth lead from day to day.

It was better to live with disappointment and frustration than to live without hope.

It was sad music. But it waved its sadness like a battle flag. It said the universe had done all it could, but you were still alive.

His face was sad and stern because of the doom that was laid on him, and yet hope dwelt ever in the depths of his heart, from which mirth would arise at times like a spring from a rock.

The message is that I was reminding myself and informing others of the fact that God has always been good to me. No matter what you're going through, God is always with us. Life is a journey.

Waiting and hoping is a hard thing to do when you've already been waiting and hoping for almost as long as you can bear it.

God steps into the suffering with us, and He takes it on himself, and He walks through it with us, and He uses it to create something in you that is unstoppable.

She was still waiting for him to come back to her, even though he wasn't going to. She was still holding out for something that wasn't going to happen. She was good at waiting. That seemed like a sad thing to be good at.

But hope got in, no matter how hard and fast I tried to stomp it out. Like these tiny fire ants we used to get in Portland. No matter how fast you liked them, there were always more, a steady stream of them, resistant, ever-multiplying. Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.