William Davenant Quotes

I came running down the stairs that morning, like it was Christmas. My parents were already up. In my family, presents never waited; they were there upon waking. Our family has a problem with what they called delayed gratification. We want what we want when we want it, and we always want it now.

What's the use of watching? A watched pot never boils.

You know how it's going to end, but instead of spoiling things, that somehow increases your fascination. It's like watching a kid run his electric train faster and faster and waiting for it to derail on one of the curves.

I hate having to wait. I've got the thing done. I just want to see what happens.

After two minutes after this time, and I am already there.

Super excited about things I'm going to do; never excited about things I'm actually doing.

Finished, it's finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished. Grain upon grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly, there's a heap, a little heap, the impossible heap. I can't be punished any more. I'll go now to my kitchen, ten feet by ten feet by ten feet, and wait for him to whistle me. Nice dimensions, nice proportions, I'll lean on the table, and look at the wall, and wait for him to whistle me.

There is nothing like the start of a season, before all the one-run losses, pitching breakdowns and missed opportunities. Before reality sets in.

One of the best lessons I've ever gotten in my life is to anticipate nothing because it's always worse in your head than it really is.

Ten minutes can be a long time when you're waiting with a beating heart for something you don't understand, something you don't really want to know.

It was the smile which runs before a promise.

I hated waiting. If I had one particular complaint, it was that my life seemed composed entirely of expectation. I expected — an arrival, an explanation, an apology. There had never been one, a fact I could have accepted, were it not true that, just when I had got used to the limits and dimensions of one moment, I was expelled into the next and made to wonder again if any shapes hid in its shadows.

I’ll wait for you. Come back. The words were not meaningless, but they didn’t touch him now. It was clear enough - one person waiting for another was like an arithmetical sum, and just as empty of emotion. Waiting. Simply one person doing nothing, over time, while another approached. Waiting was a heavy word.

We get such a kick out of looking forward to pleasures and rushing ahead to meet them that we can’t slow down enough to enjoy them when they come.

I hated waiting. If I had one particular complaint, it was that my life seemed composed entirely of expectation.

He had never before felt so self-consciously young, nor experienced such appetite, such impatience for the story to begin.

After some while Bilbo became impatient. "Well, what is it?" he said. "The answer's not a kettle boiling over, as you seem to think by the noise you are making.

The swiftest despatch seems slow to desire.

You wait for nothing if not for the word that will burst from the deep like a fruit among branches.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite. Or waiting around for Friday night or waiting perhaps for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. Everyone is just waiting.

I have never waited for anything the way I've waited for today, when nothing will happen.

To know you will be lonely is not the same as being lonely.

You’re still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren’t you?

Honestly, if you were any slower, you’d be going backward.

Every time I await a model, even when I am most pressed to time, I am overjoyed when the time comes and I tremble when I hear the key turn in the door.