Quotes About Expectation

What could these words mean to her? They must have sounded like old poetry. How could I expect her to grasp what I had said.

I hope in the next world I shall be at ease, but in this I find I must not expect it long together.

She could dream of happy endings. For him, if not for her.

No soy un caballero y probablemente no sea lo que tú quieres, pero puedes estar segura de que voy a ser lo que necesitas

some good," Randall said, opening the door for Holly. "We'll meet you in an hour. Call and order something from room service. You look

Just think how it would look if a reader walked into a café you'd recommended and found it taken over by vegetarians.

But still, you know how it is when you're missing a loved one. You try to turn every stranger into the person you were hoping for.

you know how it is when you're missing a loved one. You try to turn every stranger into the person you were hoping for.

Derek glanced over at her. Then he closed his magazine, leaving a finger inside as a marker, and undid his seat belt and stood up. "Trade places with me," he said. Willa gazed up at him imploringly. "Come on. Move." She fumbled for her seat belt. She undid the buckle, holding her breath, and then she clutched her purse and sat forward, wincing as she braced for the slam of the bullet. Nothing happened.

All those years when I was a child, longing for it to be 'my turn,' it hadn't ever occurred to me that my turn would be over, by and by.

It came to her so clearly now: the stiff-armed reach out to her side with her palm facing backward, the confident expectation of some trusting little hand grabbing hers.

When you open a book," the sentimental library posters said, "anything can happen." This was so. A book of fiction was a bomb. It was a land mine you wanted to go off. You wanted it to blow your whole day. Unfortunately, hundreds of thousands of books were duds. They had been rusting out of everyone's way for so long that they no longer worked. There was no way to distinguish the duds from the live mines except to throw yourself at them headlong, one by one.

MOST THINGS DON'T HAPPEN

Being an author sucks, doesn't it? It's like telling a joke and nobody laughs for two years.

getting what you wanted never turned out the way you'd thought it would.

I thought when he learned my secret, he would understand the ally I could be. But instead, he doesn't even know who I am.

Doing what you're supposed to do is always boring. I can't imagine anything worse than being required to have fun.

You weren't born expecting that kind of beauty in everyone, all the time. You just got programmed into thinking anything else is ugly.

The strange thing was that it never did seem to satisfy them. They always looked disappointed when they let me go. I wished I could have pleased them, so they might have relented.

the air raids failed to trigger the kind of mass hysteria that government officials had predicted.

It's also very annoying when you've made a fuss over some children who have come on a passing visit, and gone out of your way to give them things they'll like, and now they've come to expect this treatment and start constantly turning up and running around knocking things over.

the expectation of a windfall when the palms of empty hands itched.

If you travel on an airline and they get you there safely, you don't tell anyone. That's what's supposed to happen. What makes it remarkable is if it's horrible beyond belief or if the service is so unexpected (they were an hour early! they comped my ticket because I was cute! they served flaming crêpes suzette in first class!) that you need to share it.

It's foolish to expect that one exposure to your message will instantly convert someone from stranger to raving ideavirus-spreading fan. So plan on a process. Plan on a method that takes people from where they are to where you want them to go.