Quotes About Expectation

My whole life is waiting for the questions to which I have prepared answers.

Beauty may reside in the eye of the beholder, but what we see is determined by what we expect to see.

Our confidence has been so shaken by this cult of expertise and performance that when we don't perceive ourselves to be experts at something, we're almost expected to outsource the task who someone who does.

Here's the shit, now where's the fan?

How can they say Coming to a theater near you when they don't even know where you live?

The best thing about the future is that it starts tomorrow.

The last time my ship came in . . . I was waiting at the airport.

I inherited a painting and a violin which turned out to be a Rembrandt and a Stradivarius. Unfortunately, Rembrandt made lousy violins and Stradivarius was a terrible painter.

We rarely touch this. We rarely contact this simple moment. So used to constant input and excitement, we lack fine-tuning into all the subtleties of this instant, the ability to register a quiet aliveness without the stirring of expectation.

In government you carry each hope each disillusion. And in politics it's always about the next challenge.

On these issues, the public fib. They say they want increased spending, and in theory they do—but in practice they think someone else should pay for it. However, there it is. As I used to say, the public aren't always logical, but that's their prerogative. They do expect their government to be, nonetheless.

A friend that lets you down is like a coat that lets in water.

Because I am not yet living up to what Jesus expects me to be in those red letters in the Bible, I always define myself as somebody who is saved by God's grace and is on his way to becoming a Christian. (...) Being saved is trusting in what Christ did for us, but being Christian is dependent on the way we respond to what he did for us.

The story of me is always about what will be, never what is. It is the search for a treasure within life, never seeing that life is the treasure.

Don't you see?" he said. "This could go on for another five years, another ten years, and then where would we be? You want to grow old waiting for something that's never going to happen? Is that what you want?

He had been vaguely pinning his redemption on the upcoming eclipse, hoping for something somehow transformative, or at least something greater than a wow and brow-furrowed appreciation of celestial mechanics.

Being in love with someone who doesn't even know you exist isn't the worst thing in the world. In fact, it's quite the oppostie. Almost like passing in a term paper that you know sucked, but having that period of time where you haven't gotten your grade back yet -- that kind of exhale where you haven't been rejected, although you pretty much know how it's going to turn out.

Porque nadie añora lo que nunca tuvo, ni puede sentirse defraudado por carecer de lo que no conoce.

So, you can make me come, that doesn't make you Jesus.

Don't worry we shall have wonderful dreams, and when we wake up it'll be spring.

It was the end of August — the time when owls hoot at night and flurries of bats swoop noiselessly over the garden. Moomin Wood was full of glow-worms, and the sea was disturbed. There was expectation and a certain sadness in the air, and the harvest moon came up huge and yellow. Moomintroll had always liked those last weeks of summer most, but he didn't really know why.

Neither one of the two friends felt any great need of talking. As yet. They had time; summer lay before them, long and full of promises.

The room had lost its morning light, the glow of expectation and potential. The daylight was now gray, and the new day was already used, a little soiled by mistaken thoughts and makeshift undertakings.

The world is full of great and wonderful things for those who are ready for them." – Moominpappa