“…Nor Life By A Single Hope.”
—EPICTETUS
Tag Archives: Hope
“My Hopes Are NOT ALWAYS Realized…”
“…But I ALWAYS Hope.”
—OVID
({43 B.C. – 17 B.C.})
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“All Human Wisdom Is Summed Up In Two Words…”
“…WAIT And HOPE.”
—ALEXANDRE DUMAS
-{{{1802–1870}}}-
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{PLAYWRIGHT}
“NO MAN Was EVER So Much Deceived By Another…”
“…As By HIMSELF.”
—CHARLES GREVILLE
-<>(1794–1865)<>-
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Have Truer Words Ever Been Uttered?
One Would Be Hard Pressed To Find Any, That‘s Fo SHO.
With How I‘ve Been Feeling Of Late, These Words Are Burning A Hole Right Through Me.
Such Is Life???
Holy Hell, I Hope Not!!!
But…
…It Feels Like A Fool‘s Hope.
Just Sayin‘.
“Hope Is A Good Breakfast…”
“…But It Is A Bad Supper.”
—SIR FRANCIS BACON
_[[1561–1626]]_
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“First Our Pleasures Die, And Then Our Hopes, And Then Our Fears…”
“…And When These Are Dead, The Debt Is Due. Dust Claims Dust, And We Die Too.”
—PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
((1792–1822))
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I Want To Write… …I Need To Write.
I Feel Most Comfortable With My Pen In My Hand…
…And Plenty Of Paper To Write Upon.
I Like To Type-Up My Work, Sure, But I Sincerely Prefer Putting Pen To Paper.
I’m More Comfortable That Way.
My Handwriting Is Unique Enough That Only I Totally Understand It All.
So It Feels So Much More Personal To Me.
Are You Like That?
Is Anyone Like That?
Anyone?
How Many Of You Are Far More Comfortable That Way?
I Think Better That Way.
I Can More Completely Construct My Thoughts.
I Think I’ve Just Lost My Focus.
I’ve Lost My Drive.
My Determination.
My Personal Purpose.
I Write Sometimes Just For The Sake Of Writing.
I Write Sometimes Because I Sincerely Have Something To Say.
Sometimes, It’s Meaningless.
Sometimes, It Means Everything.
Sometimes, I Pray That Someone Will Read What I Write.
Sometimes, I Don’t Give A Shit If Anyone Reads Any Of It.
Sometimes, It’s All For You.
Sometimes, It’s All For Me.
Sometimes, It’s All For Us.
And Sometimes, I Just Don’t Know Who/What I’m Writing For At All.
Do You?
No, Of Course Not.
You’re Not Me.
How Could You Know Why I Do As I Do?
Exactly.
Everyone’s Different.
Everyone Does Everything For A Different Reason.
Well…
…Okay…
…Sometimes We All Do As We Do For The Exact Same Reason.
I Acknowledge That.
But For The Most Part…
…We’re All Doing What We’re Doing For Our Own Reasons.
I Just Wish I Could Get My Thoughts Straight.
I Wish I Could Stop Thinking In Seemingly Endless Circles.
It’s Maddening, Honestly.
But, When It’s All Said And Done, I Come Back To My Writing.
It’s The One Thing I Have That I Can Truly Call My Own.
Well…
…Okay…
…My Writing AND My Mistakes.
Both Are My Own.
Perhaps That’s Why I Combine Them So Often.
Nothing Feels More Mine Than Writing About My Mistakes.
I’ve Made Some Whoppers, That’s Fo SHO.
But Everyone Has.
Whoppers Abound, I Know.
When I Make One, I Almost Immediately Break Out The Pen And Paper.
I Try To Put My Thoughts Together.
I Try To Make Sense Of What Happened…
…Of What I Did Wrong THIS TIME.
Sometimes, It Helps Like Nothing Else.
Sometimes, It Only Makes It Worse Once I Realize Exactly Where I Went Wrong.
I’m A Mental And Emotional Dweller.
And Today, I’m Dwelling.
I’m Dwelling HARD.
So…
…I’m Writing.
Trying To Make Sense Of Things.
Thus Far…
…It’s Not Helping.
Not YET, At Least.
Give Me Time.
I’ll Get It All Worked Out.
With Pen In Hand…
…I’ll Get It All Worked Out.
I Hope.
I Hope.
"You Jivin' Me, Turkey?" 