A Quote by Jacopo Sannazaro
He ploughs the waves, sows the sand, and hopes to gather the wind in a net, who places his hopes in the heart of a woman.
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He ploughs the waves, sows the sand, and hopes to gather the wind in a net, who places his hopes on the heart of a woman.
[It., Ne l'onde solca, e ne l'arena semina,
E'l vago vento spera in rete acogliere
Chi sue speranze fonda in cor di femina.]
Across the narrow beach we flit, One little sand-piper and I; And fast I gather, bit by bit, The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry, The wild waves reach their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, One little sand-piper and I.
He had high hopes for society, and though his hopes were too often dashed, he remained a raging optimist.
One of our biggest problems in terms of effectiveness is that we have hopes, but our opposition has interests. We measure everything against our hopes, including politicians that we are voting for or choosing amongst. We don't measure up to our hopes ourselves.
One of our biggest problems in terms of effectiveness is that we have hopes, but our opposition has interests. We measure everything against our hopes, including politicians that we are voting for or choosing amongst. We don't measure up to our hopes ourselves. How can we expect anybody else to?
Hopes were wallflowers. Hopes hugged the perimeter of a dance floor in your brain, tugging at their party lace, all perfume and hems and doomed expectation. They fanned their dance cards, these guests that pressed against the walls of your heart.
What every man who loves his country hopes for in his inmost heart: the suppression of half his compatriots.
The powerful wind swept his hair away from his face; he leaned his chest into the wind, as if he stood on the deck of a ship heading into the wind, slicing through the waves of an ocean he’d not yet seen.
Whoever, in middle age, attempts to realize the wishes and hopes of his early youth, invariably deceives himself. Each ten years of a man's life has its own fortunes, its own hopes, its own desires.
When new hopes fail, old hopes return in the endless cycle of desperation.
A home in the country is what a city man hopes to buy and a farmer hopes to sell.
I have my share of insecurities, hopes and fears. My music is my way to rearrange the world according to my own hopes.
I landed in this country with $2.50 in cash and $1 million in hopes, and those hopes never left me.
So much is man the slave of his heart that he will shut his eyes to what does not please him and believe all that he hopes.
Place your hopes in the mercy of God and the merits of our Redeemer; say often, looking at the crucifix: There are centered all my hopes.
To pin your hopes upon the future is to consign those hopes to a hypothesis, which is to say, a nothingness. Here and now is what we must contend with.
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