Jean Giraudoux Quotes

On one hand, it seems like I've waited a long time for this.

Two messengers covered with dust come to bid me fly, but I wait for him.

I have always found it difficult to wait for things - whether it was to see my father or sailor brother, Alan, again after their long sea trips, or the chance of a better job, or even new curtains.

I have a hard time waiting for things to happen.

You're a human being, and every time a list of prize nominations comes out and your name isn't on it, you do have that thumb-in-the-eye feeling.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

The man for whom time stretches out painfully is one waiting in vain, disappointed at not finding tomorrow already continuing yesterday.

Obscurity is just obscurity. There's no romance in obscurity.

I don't hurt or want for visibility, but people seem to forget pretty easily.

This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.

I miss those days when I could just walk around under the radar and no one really knew who I was until I wanted them to know.

Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.

Today I will go to wait for her again, because I cannot help it, because my whole being seems now to be bound up in the being of one so different from myself and yet so exquisitely familiar that I can scarely understand what has happened.

Everyday was another day spent waiting. Every night was another night when she might meet someone who would recognize her true worth.

Absence becomes the greatest Presence.

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.

A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing lacking.

We are always looking into the future, but we see only the past.

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.

The tread Of coming footsteps cheats the midnight watcher Who holds her heart and waits to hear them pause, And hears them never pause, but pass and die.

I never do enjoy my breaks, long or short...I look forward to them intensely, but as soon as they begin, I can feel them starting to end. I feel the temporariness of my freedom, and find it hard to concentrate on anything other than the sensation of it trickling away.

And there I sat, long long ago, waiting for the world to know me.

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

She waited for you in a thousand different ways.