It's good to hope, it's the waiting that spoils it.
He loves me. But I love you. But you love her. It’s always that way, isn’t it? You’re willing to wait for her just like I’m willing to wait for you… just like he’s willing to wait for me. Someday, we all might turn around and realize what...
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, w...
Beat the dog; wait for its master.
Everything comes to him who waits.
Time does not wait for you , you wait for the time
Waiting for the end, boys, waiting for the end.
Don't wait until there is tragedy in your life. Don't wait until you lose somebody. Don't wait until it's too late. Appreciate the beautiful people that you have in your life now.
To forget would mean the things we never knew had never waited to be known, never waited to be forgotten, had never been; waiting beneath the long dead stars in time. . .
We must wait for God, long, meekly, in the wind and wet, in the thunder and lightning, in the cold and the dark. Wait, and He will come. He never comes to those who do not wait.
Acting is so much about waiting... waiting for an audition, waiting for the right part to come along. It's nice to write your own thing, write about what you're feeling and then go out and perform them. It's a nice thing to have and not get bored.
It is nobody's right to be waited on and nobody's fate to do the waiting.
You usually have to wait for that which is worth waiting for.
Time doesn't wait for anyone, but you always have to wait for time.
Waiting for you is like waiting for rain in a drought
Time Never waits for anyone, Everybody waits for time
When you wait for tomorrow it never comes.
It is the duty of children to wait on elders, and not the elders on children.
He took a breath. “My future wife’s in the police... “Wait, wait, wait. How long have you been going out with this woman?” Luca cleared his throat again, this time with deserved sheepishness. “We met yesterday.
Up on the Brooklyn Bridge a man is standing in agony, waiting to jump, or waiting to write a poem, or waiting for the blood to leave his vessels because if he advances another foot the pain of his love will kill him.
I would not sit waiting for some vague tomorrow, nor for something to happen. One could wait a lifetime, and find nothing at the end of the waiting. I would begin here, I would make something happen.
