Quotes About Waiting

My study throngs with characters waiting to be written. Imaginary people, anxious for a life, who tug at my sleeve, crying, 'Me next! Go on! My turn!' I have to select. And once I have chosen, the others lie quiet for ten months or a year, until I come to the end of the story, and the clamor starts up again.

They stood in silence, looking at floorboards and corners of cornices and other such insignificances, their curiosity and compassion at the ready. They were waiting so hard that when the door cracked and Bellman appeared, they jumped.

Then nobody spoke, and they breathed the minutes in and out till they made an hour.

just want to take some photographs. I don't think the weather is on my side, though." "You'll get to see it properly within the hour. This mist won't last long.

She stares up- and downriver in search of something. Something she longs for. Something she has been expecting every day, and every day it doesn't come, and still she waits and still she looks and still she yearns, but the hope dwindles with every day that passes. Now she waits hopelessly.

Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.1 —WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN

I sat on the front steps alone, waiting for a sense of ease and peace to settle in the air around me. A woman passing on the street said, ´A decongestant, an antihistamine, a cough suppressant, a pain reliever.´

There's a dolphin's brain in my in-box but come see me in forty-eight hours.

Brita said, 'I read at home, I read in hotels, I take a book with me on a twenty-minute trip to the dentist. Then I read in the waiting room.

It seemed imperative that we get to the Boy Scout camp, scramble into the main building, seal the doors, huddle on camp beds with our juice and coffee, wait for the all-clear. Cars began to mount the grassy incline at the edge of the road, creating a third lane of severely tilted traffic.

We don't pray for rain. We wait for rain, and when it comes, we thank God for it.

I sit down on the curb, outside the Opera. People passing look at me. I will wait here for a hundred years. Or until the hot meat of romance is cooled by the dull gravy of common sense once more

Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running, but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things.

What you were really waiting for was for something to challenge the protagonist.

A man watches his pear tree day after day, impatient for the ripening of the fruit," Lincoln once explained to an abolitionist. "Let him attempt to force the process, and he may spoil both fruit and tree. But let him patiently wait, and the ripe pear at length falls into his lap.

He hesitated then, anticipating the panic that came when there was nothing left to read. - Guido Brunetti

And who knows-but maybe that's what's waiting for us at the end of the journey, a majesty unimaginable until the very moment we find ourselves walking through the doors of it, what we find ourselves gazing at in astonishment when God finally takes His hands off our eyes and says: Look!

I waited for him to pick up the thread again—and when he didn't, we sat there peacefully, while I sipped my cooling tea (Lapsang Souchong, smoky and peculiar) and felt the strangeness of my life, and where I was.

it would be a long, long time before I heard anything from Boris again.

It seemed my whole life was composed of these disjointed fractions of time, hanging around in one public place and then another, as if I were waiting for trains that never came.

Rain tapped and dripped at the skylight, casting watery shadows that streamed down the wall. Too shy to say anything, I waited for him to pick up the thread again- and when he didn't, we sat there peacefully, while I sipped my cooling tea (Lapsang Souchong, smoky and peculiar) and felt the strangeness of my life, and where I was.

short term boredom and long term pain

Peony, Wisteria, Rose, Passion Flower. And who knows- but maybe that's what's waiting for us at the end of the journey, a majesty unimaginable until the very moment we find ourselves walking through the doors of it, what we find ourselves gazing at in astonishment when God finally takes his hands off our eyes and says: Look!

I hate patience. Slows everything down.