Depression is the most unpleasant thing I have ever experienced. . . . It is that absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different from feeling sad. Sad hurts but it's a healthy feeling. It is a necessary thing to feel. Depression is very different.— J. K. Rowling
Stunning Sad But Hopeful quotations
She wasn't bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.
Most people say, "Show, don't tell," but I stand by Show and Tell, because when writers put their work out into the world, they're like kids bringing their broken unicorns and chewed-up teddy bears into class in the sad hope that someone else will love them as much as they do.
My approach to cricket has been reasonably simple: it was about giving everything to the team, it was about playing with dignity and it was about upholding the spirit of the game. I hope I have done some of that. I have failed at times, but I have never stopped trying. It is why I leave with sadness but also with pride.
The curious beauty of African music is that it uplifts even as it tells a sad tale. You may be poor, you may have only a ramshackle house, you may have lost your job, but that song gives you hope.
The world he saw was sadder than the one he hoped to find.
But it wasn't near as lonesome as the one he left behind.
It is sad To see the light of beauty wane away, Know eyes are dimming, bosoms shrivelling, feet Losing their springs, and limbs their lily roundness; But it is worse to feel the heart-spring gone, To lose hope, care not for the coming thing, And feel all things go to decay within us.
The erasure itself became the action.
It seemed to suggest a moment in terms of how sad or pessimistic you can feel in a political environment or a historical situation. But it felt like a really hopeful gesture in the painting.
We heard the sad news today And had to send this card to say Our thoughts and prayers go out to you There's not lot a lot that we can do But if you need just anything Pick up the phone, give us a ring Even though we're far apart We're with you in spirit and in heart And hope that you will find, at length The love of family will give you strength.
The other day I got a text from a boy, but it wasn't hot.
I mean, if you're going to text me every day, you haven't seen me for months and you're trying to seduce me, you'd better spice up that text and make it more exciting than 'How was your day? I hope you're having a beautiful one.' Sadly, I haven't been doing a lot of kissing lately.
That's the thing about love - it's full of possibilities.
It can lead you down so many different paths. Sure, for some of us, it can lead to sadness and regret. But, for others, well, for others it can lead them to the greatest future they could've ever hoped for. Love is the most possible thing in the world.
It is not the end of joy that makes old age so sad, but the end of hope.
So I took her hand, and I don't know what everybody else heard, but to me it sounded like a slow dance: a little sad, but maybe a little hopeful, too.
Children see in their parents the past, their parents see in them the future;
and if we find more love in the parents for their children than in children for their parents, this is sad but natural. Who does not entertain his hopes more than his recollections.
A man's liberal and conservative phases seem to follow each other in a succession of waves from the time he is born. Children are radicals. Youths are conservatives, with a dash of criminal negligence. Men in their prime are liberals (as long as their digestion keeps pace with their intellect). The middle aged run to shelter: they insure their life, draft a will, accumulate mementos and occasional tables, and hope for security. And then comes old age, which repeats childhood -- a time full of humors and sadness, but often full of courage and even prophecy.
What makes old age so sad is not that our joys but our hopes cease.
We all had lots of stories of our sad experiences - they mourned the death of my wife with me - but we were hopeful that the children would return.
A song like 'Tears Dry on Their Own' is really sad, but it's hopeful, too - that was my theme song for the first boy who broke my heart.
I remember when I first moved to New York, people said, "Wow, man! You're so great. You have all these hopes and dreams, but it's going to be sad when you realize how the world really works!" But one of the things I love most about this city is that everyone who moves here is being unreasonable. There's a sense of solidarity about that.
A lot of my friends are struggling. A lot of my friends didn't make movies, which was really hard and sad. I'm good friends with this film collective, Red Bucket, which made Daddy Longlegs and The Pleasure Of Being Robbed. They're climbing the walls. They're all making cartoon booklets now, because they can't raise the funds to make another movie. But I think that when it returns, which it hopefully will, there will be another surge of energy.
We're just at a point in regard to race relations, we're at a tipping point in America. It's a crucial time. It's sad, honestly, I think it's a place that deep down no one wants to be in. But it's something that needs to be addressed, it's something that needs to be fixed, and hopefully we can figure it out and take steps toward doing that.
Christianity only hopes. It has hung its harp on the willows, and cannot sing a song in a strange land. It has dreamed a sad dream, and does not yet welcome the morning with joy. The mother tells her falsehoods to her child, but, thank heaven, the child does not grow up in its parent's shadow. Our mother's faith has not grown with her experience. Her experience has been too much for her. The lesson of life was too hard for her to learn.
A little time separates us from those who depart - a time of tears, a time of sadness and solitude; but, that over, we go to rejoin them and to enjoy with them the society of the blessed. Oh, how sweetly the heart rests in this immortal hope!
...the souls of the dead [are] not deprived of their intellectual faculties but... they also are not lacking in feelings such as hope and sadness, joy and fear. They already have a foretaste of what is in store for them after the general judgment. Nor does it happen, as some unbelievers would hold, that upon leaving this world they are turned to nothing. Actually they live more intensely and they concentrate more on the praises of God.
It is time to ask: are we Aborigines a serious people? … Do we have the seriousness necessary to maintain our languages, traditions and knowledge? … The truth is that I am prone to bouts of doubt and sadness around these questions. But I have hope. Our hope is dependent upon education. Our hope depends on how serious we become about the education of our people.
Sometimes, we don't get what we want.
. . But this is a benevolent universe. And once in a while, we do.
whether they'll write the story of my life as a tragedy or an epic fantasy.
.. I was wondering if it was going to be a kiss at the end, or sad music and a sweeping camera shot over the fields I once roamed freely. I'm hoping for the kiss, but expecting the sweeping camera shot.
You know Mildred would never do anything wrong or foolish.
I reflected a little sadly that this was only too true and hoped I did not appear too much that kind of person to others. Virtue is an excellent thing and we should all strive after it, but it can sometimes be a little depressing.
Does your ma know you're this silly?" she demanded tartly.
He nodded, comically sad. "The few gray hairs she has on her head are my doing. But" — with an exaggerated change of mood — "I send her plenty of money, so she can pay to have them dyed!" "I hope she beat you as a child," Onua grumbled.
A flood of emotions rushes into me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.
Don't be too hasty," she warned. "Conserve your strength. If you're too eager to fight the undead, you may find yourselves joining them. Then you'd never see us again, and we'd be very sad." "Yes," said Christian. "I'd cry into my pillow every night." I resisted the urge to kick him. "Well, I couldn't visit if I was Strigoi, yeah, but hopefully I'd just die a normal death. Then I could come see you as a ghost.
How sadly things had changed since she had sat there the night after coming home! Then she had been full of hope and joy and the future had looked rosy with promise. Anne felt as if she had lived years since then, but before she went to bed there was a smile on her lips and peace in her heart. She had looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend--as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.
It is sad to see a young man's fondest hopes and dreams shattered when the rose-colured veil is plucked away and he sees the actions and feelings of men for what they are. But he still has the hope of replacing his old illusions with others, just as fleeting, but also just as sweet.