Quotes About Waiting

After the way you accepted the mission, I know I can't convince you otherwise. So, instead ... come back alive. We'll be here ... waiting for you to come back.

Anne, I'm sorry about your pa… all this time… all that waitin'. All that time? she said, taking a step toward him. You were waiting for him. He was all you ever wanted. I know it, and I'm sorry, he said. Jack, she said, her voice husky and soft. It was you, she said. It was you all that time, all those years. I was waiting… for you. - Jack & Anne

An inconsolable longing describes that aching sense of waiting and dissatisfaction that regularly clouds our thoughts; that feeling that in the deepest depths of existence all we will find is a void.

She would wait and watch, as she had always watched and waited, hoping that such a puzzle would one day come to her. But if it failed to show itself she would not grieve too deeply, for fear that the mending of broken hearts be a puzzle neither wit nor time had the skill to solve.

I tried talking to Jesus, but he just put me on hold...

An elevator doesn't exist without its freight. If there's no one to get on, the elevator remains in quiescence. The elevator and the passenger need each other.

Poems were too close to prayer, rousing regrettable passions. Waiting for God to rescue you when it was up to you.

Waiting for God to rescue you when it was up to you. Poetry and prayer put ideas in people's heads that got them killed, distracting them from the ruthless mechanism of the world.

As it turned out, one aspect of my personality would help me in my odyssey: I was a bider. Temperamentally suited to hold out for good cards, well accustomed to waiting. We Anhedonians have adapted to long periods between good news. Our national animal is the hope camel. We have no national bird. All the birds are dead.

Without you, she wrote in Hebrew, I am without any depth, I am on the surface here, waiting.

The ticking was gone from my mind and all was quiet everywhere in the world and I held the curtain like I held the sound of the bullets going into the draft horse, his favourite, in the barn, one two three, and I stood at the window in Stevie's jacket and looked and waited and still the rain kept coming down outside one two three and I was thinking oh what a small sky for so much rain.

It was the dilemma of the watchers: they didn't want to wait around for nothing at all, some idiot standing on the precipice of the towers, but they didn't want to miss the moment either, if he slipped, or got arrested, or dove, arms stretched.

We are completely isolated. We have heard nothing from Annemarie Kohler, nothing from Johannes Kohler for weeks.......A frightening silence.

Wow!" Dutch exclaimed as he took a gander at me. "You are a beautiful woman, Abby." "And you have excellent taste!" I deadpanned. I'd waited for years to say that line.

man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any "how.

suffering. Take the fate of the sick—especially those who are incurable. I once read a letter written by a young invalid, in which he told a friend that he had just found out he would not live for long, that even an operation would be of no help. He wrote further that he remembered a film he had seen in which a man was portrayed who waited for death in a

When we spoke about attempts to give a man in camp mental courage, we said that he had to be shown something to look forward to in the future. He had to be reminded that life still waited for him, that a human being waited for his return.

A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw his life away.

Endure for a while, and live for a happier day.

With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past.

Well, we must wait for the future to show.

I, who am perpetually making notes in the margin of my mind for some final statement, make this mark, waiting for some winter's evening.

Must a kettle boil?

One never gets anything worth having by post.