Love takes the form of the little grand child bouncing on the knee of the grieving widow. . . . Listening to a beautiful strain of Brahms, . . . Listening to a beautiful and true poem. The English philosopher John Stuart Mill once said he was lifted out of a nervous breakdown reading a poem by Wordsworth. Hope, the writer F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote, is that special thing that doesn't need any external reason or stimuli.
Discouragement is born from within with no good reason.
Hope is born from within with no good reason. Hope is what tells us there is a tomorrow. Hope is what tells us to wait for the next thing. Hope, as Emily Dickinson said, is the thing with feathers, but that doesn't help any. So we need love and hope.