Quotes About Patience

Let us suffer absurdities, for that is only to suffer one another.

You're only young once, they say, but doesn't it go on for a long time? More years than you can bear.

If you get stuck, get away from your desk. Take a walk, take a bath, go to sleep, make a pie, draw, listen to ­music, meditate, exercise; whatever you do, don't just stick there scowling at the problem. But don't make telephone calls or go to a party; if you do, other people's words will pour in where your lost words should be. Open a gap for them, create a space. Be patient.

Nation-watching would be simple if it could be like bird-watching.

Going home does not come naturally to me. If my father's medium was silence, mine had tended to be escape. But there's no future in escape because the world is round. So the faster you run away, the faster you end up, right back where you started, face to face with whatever you were running from in the first place. Your worst fears, they're always the most patient. They'll wait up for you. That's what makes them the worst.

Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.

??????? ??, ??????: ??? ???????? ???? ???? ?????. - Be patient, my heart: for you have endured things worse than this before.

I know not what the future holds, but I know who holds the future.

Heaven has appointed us dwellers on earth a time for all things.

Have patience, heart.

What is proper to hear, no one, human or divine, will hear before you.

You must endure and not be broken-hearted.

Endure, my heart; yea, a baser thing thou once didst bear

In this way, the Odyssey's hero embodies one of its central themes, which is that the capacity to defer satisfaction and endure suffering is as necessary for success as the ability to perform brilliant feats.

Now as these two were conversing thus with each other, a dog who was lying there raised his head and ears. This was Argos, patient-hearted Odysseus' dog, whom he himself raised, but got no joy of him, since before that he went to sacred Ilion. In the days before, the young men had taken him 295 out to follow goats of the wild, and deer, and rabbits; but now he had been put aside, with his master absent

So his heart held firm and constant, but he writhed around, as when a man rotates a sausage full of fat and blood; the huge fire blazes, and he longs to have the roasting finished.

Never have you patience frankly to speak forth to me the thing that you purpose.

And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea, I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure. Much have I suffered, labored long and hard by now in the waves and wars. Add this to the total-- bring the trial on!

it's impossible to undo fifteen or twenty years of learned behavior with a mother in only a few months. If it takes nine months to bring a life into this world, what makes us think we can let go of someone in less?

This country didn't get fucked up in 100 days and it's not going to get fixed in 100 days.

The butterfly with a wounded wing glided clumsily down to settle on a leaf by the spider's web. The spider knew he was there, but she was drowsy and ignored him for a time. The butterfly waited patiently, knowing that a hastily aroused spider tends to be bad tempered.

I see this as the central issue of our time: how to find a substitute for war in human ingenuity, imagination, courage, sacrifice, patience... War is not inevitable, however persistent it is, however long a history it has in human affairs. It does not come out of some instinctive human need. It is manufactured by political leaders, who then must make a tremendous effort--by enticement, by propaganda, by coercion--to mobilize a normally reluctant population to go to war.

Yes, patience. I recall a Bertolt Brecht fable. A man living alone answers a knock at the door. There stands Tyranny, armed and powerful, who asks, "Will you submit?" The man does not reply. He steps aside. Tyranny enters and takes over. The man serves him for years. Then Tyranny mysteriously becomes sick from food poisoning. He dies. The man opens the door, gets rid of the body, comes back to the house, closes the door behind him, and says, firmly, "No.

Never lift your foot till you come to the stile.