Hope (n.) occurs in time and, in time, goes beyond time.
Hope (n.) is more than a human behavior and less than being — or perhaps also more than being.
Hope (n.) is hope for the reparation of the irreparable — it hopes for the present itself.
Hope (n.) in its deeper sense is not awaiting in time; it resists every knowledge, every gnosis.
Hope (n.) of the rational kind is a priori — as sensible and as rational as mortality, and not the will to survive.
Hope (n.) lets us be in the world as though the world were finished — not an absolute knowledge but an absolute habitation.
Hope (n.) is not enough to unleash a future; there is no dialectical exorcism in conceiving a freedom.
Hope (n.) breathes the air of the irreparable: there is hope only once hoping is no longer allowed.
Hope (n.) of freedom knocks on the closed doors of another dimension — a mode of existence where nothing is irrevocable, which is time.
Hope (n.) is the relationship with something beyond measure — whereas knowledge is always proportionate to what it knows.
Hope (n.) in despair does not undo the nothingness of death; it lends death a meaning other than the one it draws from nothingness.
Hope (n.) is not satisfied by wiping away tears or avenging death: no tear is to be lost, no death be without a resurrection. Its true object is the Messiah.