A Quote by Garth Brooks
As long as one heart still holds on, then hope is never really gone
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Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up interest wrinkles the soul. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope as old as your despair. In the central place of every heart there is a recording chamber. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer and courage, so long are you young. When your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and then only, are you grown old. And then, indeed as the ballad says, you just fade away
The future holds little hope for any government where the present holds no hope for the people.
No matter what the storm clouds bring, you can face your pain with courage and hope. For two thousand years ago-six hours, one Friday-Christ firmly planted in bedrock three solid anchor points that we can all cling to. For the heart scarred with futility, that Friday holds purpose. For the life blackened with failure, that Friday holds forgiveness. And for the soul looking into the tunnel of death, that Friday holds deliverance.
Every heart has a miracle to pray for. Every life holds that which only a miracle can cure. To prove that there have never been, that there can never be, miracles does not alter the matter. So long as there is something hoped for, - that does not come in the legitimate channel of possible events, - just so long will the miracle be prayed for.
Never lose faith in yourself, and never lose hope; remember, even when this world throws its worst and then turns its back, there is still always hope.
The hope that is left after all your hopes are gone - that is pure hope, rooted in the heart.
When there's no sign of hope in the desert, so much hope still lives inside despair. Heart, don't kill that hope.
We can certainly see contemporary examples of people who radically change. As long you believe your spouse will never change and you keep telling yourself that, then you live with no hope. But if you understand that that's a myth, then you open up the door to hope.
I hope I'm not sitting on a bench in a retirement home talking about what was: "Oh, I worked with this guy and that guy." I hope I'm still doing it for a really long time.
I haven't had a cramp since '99. That was my only time, in Davis Cup, when I was panicky. I was young. I'm very proud of that. Never pulled out. Never had cramps. Never lost very much because of fitness, especially later on in my career where I knew I've put in the hard work. I've done that. I've been very fortunate and clever as well to understand how I need to work, when I need to work. So I'm very happy to have stayed injury free for so long. I hope I can still maintain a few good years on the tour. I really hope so.
The truth is... I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart... and I never really got it back.
Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being's heart the lure of wonder, the unfailing child-like appetite of what's next, and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage and power from men and from God, so long are you young.
Hope is such a tenuous quality. To feel it and then to be denied what one most longs for ... Better, surely, not to hope at all, than to open the heart to a hope that is impossible.
The idea of a spiritual heart transplant is a vivid image to me; once you have the heart of somebody else inside you, then that heart is there. Jesus' heart is inside me, and my heart is gone. So if God were to place a stethoscope against my chest, he would hear the heart of Jesus Christ beating.
He holds my face in both hands and kisses me back. I press into the distance between us until it is gone, crushing the secrets we have kept and the suspicions we have harbored-for good, I hope.
Your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks. All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by that rush of water. And still the rain beats down on the surface of the river. Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart.
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