The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dreams shall never die.
The world is bad but not without hope. It is only hopeless when you look at it from an ideal viewpoint.
Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.
