I know nothing about war. But let me tell you what I believe. I think running from responsibility breeds self-loathing and despair. I think people can, and do, rise to the occasion, and even a single person can make an incredible difference. What they need are leaders who believe in them, a belief that gives birth to hope. With hope, people can do remarkable things, amazing things.
I wish I could tell you it doesn't matter. I wish I could hold you close and tell that you will be loved for what you do, that you are incredible and unique. I wish you knew how much you were needed, how much I miss you. I wish. You dream of desires and hopes, and that is why I dream of you - because you are my desire and hope.
Love is such a cruel thing. One minute you've been texting them for hours, hoping he'll ask you ask on a date, or just telling you how he feels about you. Next minute, he's saying the stupid, "No it's me not you. We can just be friends." While I'm crying my eyes out hoping you may take me back. Cause I don't want to be friends.
Oh, let me tell you, feelings are all dangerous. Love, hope... Ha! Hope! You talk about dangerous, eh? No, you can't avoid any of them. We all own a beast called anger. It can serve us: many good things come out of anger at bad things; many unjust things are made just. But first we all have to figure out how to civilize it.
“If you change your formation, you are hoping to maybe cause 20 minutes of uncertainty with the opposition whereby they have to think on their feet and solve problems on the pitch to what they thought you were going to do. Both times we have done that, there has been no surprise element and they have been able to cope with that before the game has kicked off. There is no surprise when our team sheet is read out and plenty of surprises when theirs is read out.”
“[Series with political content tend to age badly, and Cowen and Lipman know a thing or two about dated television -- the men, who began their work and home lives together in 1971 at a playwrights' conference, wrote An Early Frost, the first TV movie about AIDS, which aired in 1985.] You never know if something's going to hold up or fall apart in 20 years, ... It will mark a certain point in time. I hope as time goes on it will be seen as accurate.”
“I was just hoping for some more contributions from more kids. They came out and played hard for me, so I was happy about that. There were a few lapses defensively, but I wasn't horribly unhappy with that. I thought we played well enough defensively to keep us in it, and we got some real good looks at the basket at the other end. I mean a whole bunch of open 10 footers. We just didn't put the ball in the hole.”
It was a morning when all nature shouted "Fore!" The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip-shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky; and the sun, peeping above the trees, looked like a giant golf-ball perfectly lofted by the mashie of some unseen god and about to drop dead by the pin of the eighteenth.
Something about Tilo’s new home reminded Musa of the story of Mumtaz Afzal Malik, the young taxi driver whom Amrik Singh had killed, whose body had been recovered from a field and delivered to his family with earth in his clenched fists and mustard flowers growing through his fingers. That story had always stayed with Musa – perhaps because of the way hope and grief were woven together in it, so tightly, so inextricably.
In the harsh veracity of the real world, he was rich, successful, and one of the most desired bachelors in New York—and I was, well, me. A world I hoped wouldn’t tear us apart by pointing out just how different our lives were.“You’re probably eager to get home,” Jett whispered in my ear so the flight attendant serving coffee wouldn’t hear us, “but will you stay with me one more night? I’m not quite ready to let this go.