Quotes About Waiting

Kendinde her ?eyi yapabilecek kuvveti görmek, sonra yap?lacak hiçbir ?ey bulamamak... Tükenmek bilmez bir sab?rla bir meçhulü beklemek... Nihayet bütün bunlar? sisli bir havadaki a?açlar gibi belli belirsiz, kar???k bir ?ekilde hissetmek... Bu, uzun zaman dayan?l?r ?eylerden de?ildi.

Odamda beni kitaplar?m bekler. Bu yegane tesellidir.

Tükenmez bitmek bir sab?rla, bir olmaz? beklemek...

So much beauty in this dark and dreary scene! Oh, to breathe in this moist air! This was how life should be lived: attuned to nature, its every flutter and sway, while time moves inexorably forward. Rejoicing in every moment, finding a lifetime in each and every one, in the knowledge that these moments were revealing themselves to me as to no other. Never forgetting that there existed another with whom I could share all my thoughts. I just had to wait...

sarho? olsun olmas?n bütün kad?nlar?n yüzlerinde, hareketlerinde ise: "aman yarabbi, ne zaman bitecek!" diyen bir ifade vard?; ve bununla bu geceyi de?il, bu hayatlar?n? da de?il, her ?eyi, ama her ?eyi kastettikleri besbelli idi.

Even on a daily basis, one can make this awareness a part of one's life. When you are hungry and want to eat, just postpone it by ten minutes. Be conscious of your hunger, do not get busy with some other activity. Consciously postpone your meal and wait.

They say how long a minute is essentially depends on which side of the bathroom door you are! Those inside say, "Just a minute, I'm coming." That one minute, for the person outside, is an eternity!

XXIX. As they that long after figs in winter when they cannot be had; so are they that long after children, before they be granted them. XXX.

Dogs wait for us faithfully.

Sometimes I arrive too early. I rush, and some people cling longer to life than expected.

Better not to invent her in her absence. Better to wait until she's actually here. Then he can make her up as she goes along.

Like the trains, she's never on time and always departing.

I was buying time. One is always buying something.

I've been prepared for almost anything; except absence, except silence.

What do you want me to do?" he whispers into the empty air. It's hard to know. Oh Jimmy, you were so funny. Don't let me down. From habit he lifts his watch; it shows him its blank face. Zero hour, Snowman thinks. Time to go.

But I have already told the beginning, so right now it's the middle. And Zeb is in the middle of the story about Zeb. He is in the middle of his own story. I am not in this part of the story; it hasn't come to the part with me. But I'm waiting, far off in the future. I'm waiting for the story of Zeb to join up with mine. The story of Toby. The story I am in right now, with you.

We're using up the Earth. It's almost gone. You can't live with such fears and keep on whistling. The waiting builds up in you like a tide. You start wanting it to be done with. You find yourself saying to the sky, Just do it. Do your worst. Get it over with.

That's who is waiting for me: an invisible man defined by a dotted line: the shape of an absence in your place at the table, sitting across from me, eating toast and eggs as usual or walking ahead up the drive, a rustling of the fallen leaves, a slight thickening of the air. It's you in the future, we both know that. You'll be here but not here, a muscle memory, like hanging a hat on a hook that's not there any longer.

This could be the last time I have to wait. But I don't know what I'm waiting for. What are you waiting for? they used to say. That meant Hurry up. No answer was expected. For what are you waiting is a different question, and I have no answer for that one either.

for it is the fate of a woman Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Running through caverns of darkness.… —HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, "The Courtship of Miles Standish," 1858.

Somewhere in Limbo, all the old devices and appliances and costumes are lined up, waiting their turn for reentry.

I no longer think that anything can happen. I no longer want to think that way. Happen is what you wait for, not what you do; and anything is a large category.

This thing I'm doing can hardly be called living. Instead I'm lying dormant, like a bacterium in a glacier. Getting time over with. That's all.

At first I was given centuries to wait in caves, in leather tents, knowing you would never come back