Hope" is the thing with feathers- that perches in the soul... -Emily Dickenson.

Hope" is the thing with feathers- that perches in the soul... -Emily Dickenson.

When the heart is enlivened again, it feels like the sun coming out after a week of rainy days. There read more

When the heart is enlivened again, it feels like the sun coming out after a week of rainy days. There is hope in the heart that chases the clouds away. Hope is a higher heart frequency and as you begin to reconnect with your heart, hope is waiting to show you new possibilities and arrest the downward spiral of grief and loneliness. It becomes a matter of how soon you want the sun to shine. Listening to the still, small voice in your heart will make hope into a reality. Sara Paddison, The Hidden Power of the Heart Hope is a higher heart frequency, and as you begin to re-connect with your heart, hope is waiting to show you new possibilities and arrest the downward spiral of grief and loneliness. Listening to the still small voice in your heart will make hope into a reality. Benjamin Franklin, preface, Poor Richard's Almanac, 1758 He that lives upon hope will die fasting. -Sara Paddison.

Hope! of all ills that men endure,
The only cheap and universal cure.

Hope! of all ills that men endure,
The only cheap and universal cure.

Hope is the only universal liar who never loses his reputation for veracity.

Hope is the only universal liar who never loses his reputation for veracity.

Hope, withering, fled--and Mercy sighed farewell.

Hope, withering, fled--and Mercy sighed farewell.

Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only read more

Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings. -Elie Weisel.

Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak read more

Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak as the wind.

A whole stack of memories never equal one little hope.

A whole stack of memories never equal one little hope.

But thou, O hope, with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure?
Still it whisper'd promised read more

But thou, O hope, with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure?
Still it whisper'd promised pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail!