Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
Topic
Aristotle's "hope is a waking dream" is the most compressed definition in the collection: hope occupies the same cognitive territory as dreaming, but it happens in daylight and requires volition. Bacon's breakfast-and-supper formulation qualifies it immediately: hope is nutritious at the start of things and dangerous at the end, when it defers reckoning. Einstein and Wilde on hope in marriage — men hoping women stay the same, women hoping men change, both wrong — is the most structurally elegant entry: mutual and opposite hopes, predictably disappointed. Anatole France on all changes having their melancholy — even the longed-for ones — locates hope's peculiar sadness: what we leave behind when hope is realized turns out to have value we hadn't accounted for. Seneca on wishing-to-be-loved-and-loving is the directive: hope is most actionable when it is converted from a wish into a practice. What the collection argues is that hope, properly understood, is not optimism about outcomes but commitment to the possibility of change.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
Hope is the only bee that makes honey without flowers.