Quotes About Waiting

Am I in love? - Yes, since I'm waiting. The other never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn't wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game: whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover's fatal identity is precisely: I am the one who waits.

Am I in love? – yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn't wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover's fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.

Am I in love? -Yes, since I'm waiting. The other never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn't wail; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game: whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual. even ahead of time. The lover's fatal identity is precisely: I am the one who waits.

The lover's fatal identity is precisely: I am the one who waits.

I am waiting for an arrival, a return, a promised sign... Everything is solemn: I have no sense of proportions.

All his life he had waited for 'the great idea that … would hit me like a bolt of lightning'. Youth was when 'the bolts of lightning come, if they are ever to strike … But now … I am hardly really young any longer … and the future is unlikely to bring any.

Junior waited more than a year to depart from the company.

Such a time never came.

Waiting is a skill like anything else.

You need infinite patience. No use fretting or worrying. You just wait. Doing nothing, thinking nothing, burning no energy. Then you burst into action. After an hour, five hours, a day, a week. Waiting is a skill like anything else.

Below us the young guy was talking through the door seal again. His body language was placatory. He was squirming and patting the air and glancing hopefully toward the road. They're coming, I promise. And then they came.

California, Reacher thought. There was a sedan at the curb. It had been waiting there for them. A big car, black, expensive. The driver was leaning across and behind the front passenger seat. He was stretching over to pop the rear door. The guy opposite Reacher motioned with his gun again. Reacher didn't move. He glanced left and right. He figured he had about another second and a half to make some kind

Try Keever again. Just in case." "I don't want to. I don't want to hear him not answer." "He's either OK or he isn't. Calling him or not calling him doesn't change anything.

The guy stood a yard inside the dark room and waited, blinking, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom after the hot whiteness of the Key West sun. It was June, dead-on four o'clock in the afternoon, the southernmost part of the United States. Way farther south than most of the Bahamas. A hot white sun and a fierce temperature. Reacher sat at his table in back and sipped water from a plastic bottle and waited.

Reacher waited. A minute later a car came driving out of town, but it was full. Two in the front, two in the back. No room for a hitchhiker, especially one as large as Reacher. He recognized people he had seen in the diner, disconsolate and complaining, boots on and ready, backpacks piled in the corner, no place to go.

Waiting is a skill like anything else." Jack Reacher

I was watching the minute hand, intently. It wasn't moving. I waited. It moved. It jumped ahead six degrees.

sat alone until Peterson stuck his head in the hallway and called for him. He took the borrowed Highway Patrol

Then he checked his watch and waited for midnight. No way to get there faster. The drivers in three and seven were waiting just like him. They nodded, not exactly friendly, not exactly wary. More like a simple same-boat acknowledgment of life's ups and downs.

He knocked on the door and waited. He counted the seconds in his head. He had knocked on a lot of doors. He knew how it worked. One, they hear the knock, two, they get up off the couch, three, they thread around the clutter, four, they step to the door, five, they open it. The door opened. A guy stood there. On his own, with silence behind him. The

shadow. He checked his watch. The bus

Waiting is a skill, just like everything else. ~Jack Reacher

It lined up behind a 747 bound for Tokyo the way a mouse lines up behind an elephant.

would take at least another hour for