In such a porcelain life, one likes to be sure that all is well, lest one stumble upon one’s hopes in a pile of broken crockery.
If you die you’re completely happy and your soul somewhere lives on. I’m not afraid of dying. Total peace after death, becoming someone else is the best hope I’ve got.
If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment.
I hope nothing. I fear nothing. I am free.
He that lives upon Hope will die fasting.
Everything changes. You can make a fresh start with your final breath.[Alles wandelt sich. Neu beginnen Kannst du mit dem letzten Atemzug.]
Difficulties break some men but make others. No axe is sharp enough to cut the soul of a sinner who keeps on trying, one armed with the hope that he will rise even in the end.
Cut the Wings of your Hens and Hopes, lest they lead you a weary Dance after them.
But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
Better hope deferred than none.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers — That perches in the soul — And sings the tune without the words — And never stops — at all —
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
