Johan Huizinga Quotes

A whole stack of memories never equal one little hope.

I was the future once.

Hope is a dream deferred.

The golden age has not passed; it lies in the future.

I don't feel the depression the people who are always looking back to the '50s, to 'Father Knows Best' feel. I can see the coming of another glorious era.

It may be that the seemingly intrinsic attraction that past time has for me is merely a desire for escapism, as I look out at the nation and world with little optimism.

It is the style of idealism to console itself for the loss of something old with the ability to gape at something new.

Man is, properly speaking, based upon hope, he has no other possession but hope; this world of his is emphatically the place of hope.

We must rediscover the distinction between hope and expectation.

I just don't see the light. Where is the light? What am I in this for?

The world is full of hopeful analogies and handsome, dubious eggs, called possibilities.

American dreams are strongest in the hearts of those who have seen America only in their dreams.

Is there anything better than to be longing for something, when you know it is within reach?

I had a strong conviction that there was something out there in the world that was wonderful.

What one hopes for is always better than what one has.

People are tired of being told that this is as good as it gets. They hear in Donald Trump someone who says, 'We can do better.'

I'm always sad to leave paradise, but I leave behind the hopes of coming again soon.

The devastating scale and frequency of my disappointment was proof of how much I still expected and wanted from the world, of what high hopes I still had for it.

Young fighters dream of the future. Old fighters seek to recapture the past.

The novel is like a melancholy form. It's about some kind of disillusionment with the way things are versus the idea of how they could be or how they used to be.

A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.

We were always dreaming of how it was going to be.

Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.

I want so much that is not here and do not know where to go.

Pleasure disappoints; possibility never.