Sympathy Quotes

Hope is a strange invention
A Patent of the Heart
In unremitting action
Yet never wearing out

Of this electric Adjunct
Not anything is known
But its unique momentum
Embellish all we own

(Poem By Emily Dickinson)

Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
‘Tis nature’s prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E’en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?

(Poem By John Clare)

Delusive Hope! more transient than the ray
That leads pale twilight to her dusky bed,
O’er woodland glen, or breezy mountain’s head,
Ling’ring to catch the parting sigh of day.
Hence with thy visionary charms, away!
Nor o’er my path the flow’rs of fancy spread;
Thy airy dreams on peaceful pillows shed,
And weave for thoughtless brows, a garland gay.
Farewell low vallies; dizzy cliffs, farewell!
Small vagrant rills that murmur as ye flow:
Dark bosom’d labyrinth and thorny dell;
The task be mine all pleasures to forego;
To hide, where meditation loves to dwell,
And feed my soul, with luxury of woe!

(Poem By Mary Darby Robinson)

And this of all my Hopes
This, is the silent end
Bountiful colored, my Morning rose
Early and sere, its end

Never Bud from a Stem
Stepped with so gay a Foot
Never a Worm so confident
Bored at so brave a Root

(Poem By Emily Dickinson)

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all

And sweetest in the Gale  is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest Sea
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb  of Me.

(Poem By Emily Dickinson)

Oh, they have robbed me of the hope
My spirit held so dear;
They will not let me hear that voice
My soul delights to hear.
They will not let me see that face
I so delight to see;
And they have taken all thy smiles,
And all thy love from me.

Well, let them seize on all they can: –
One treasure still is mine, –
A heart that loves to think on thee,
And feels the worth of thine.

(Poem By Anne Bronte)