A brick could be lodged inside a home to provide comfort, stability, hope, change, and audacity. Oh gosh! Sorry about the last three—I was in my political bullshit mode again.
A brick could be planted on a farm, in the hopes that a house will spring up come harvest. But that idea is ridiculous, because we’re in a drought, and there simply hasn’t been enough rain to yield a crop of that magnitude.
What could Maria call the time that opened ahead of her? The certainty of her hope? This rejuvenated air she was breathing? This incandescence, this bursting of a love at last without object?
To be environmentally friendly, I’d ride my stationary bike to work. I hope my career works out, because it feels like I'm just spinning my wheels.
He seemed to swallow the lie I fed him. I hope he’s not still hungry. If he is, I’ll give him the illusory dessert known as the American Dream.
A student was given a mentoring opportunity, "in the hope that when you had somebody to lean on you, you would begin to stand a little steadier yourself, and get manliness and thoughtfulness.
I like spending time with my family. And if you have the same last name as me, we might be family. I’m an orphan, so I was hoping we could hang out.
I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of taking away your freedoms. –Uncle Sam
I have been writing for about eleven years now. I went from elfish to elephantish, and in another eleven years, I hope to be Elford.
I’ve been writing for about eleven years. I went from elfish to elephantish, and in another eleven years I hope to be Levin.
Hope is a very strange thing, Constance Thyme, and something I haven’t had much of, as late. Yet all the signs lead me to believe there may be some left in the world for me, after all.
There are times when the evil seems so impenetrable, the wickedness so victorious, you don't even know how to hope. But then the good news bursts in, as impossible to deny as it is to believe.
The idea of the future, pregnant with an infinity of possibilities, is thus more fruitful than the future itself, and this is why we find more charm in hope than in possession, in dreams than in reality.
Pay attention to what you pray for. Your prayers are not just a reflection of your desires and hopes; they are a guide for personal behavior. PRAY it, BE it, and you will SEE it.
She's absolutely beautiful. Her hope is beautiful. The smile on her face is beautiful. The tears streaming down her cheeks are beautiful. Her love is beautiful.
Skypilot could not help but hope that the song of the moon--the song of God's miraculous firmament--might reach her tonight and enable her to feel the reality of Christ's love and sacrifice.
Pure and soft, the melody is entrancing. Haunting. I’m glued to my seat, waiting, hoping for the next enthralling sound. I’d close my eyes if I weren’t afraid I’d miss a second of his performance.
I have always been well liked, I think, always well regarded and respected, but having few enemies is not the same as having many friends, and there was no denying that I was, if not "lonely", more solitary than I'd hoped to be at that time.
A man is a fool to live in hopes of a better tomorrow. I have a thousand, better ways today to spend what time remains ahead of me, and I have brighter, lighter and more pleasant places in which to spend it.
I hope this book will inspire the kitchen con-artist in you, increase fruit and veggie consumption in your family, and motivate you to become an Accidental Cook. Pass it on!
That's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.
