Waiting To See You Again Quotes & Sayings

Jesus Christ is always there for you. He longs to aid you, He longs to be by your side, to help you through your struggles, to heal your aching heart and to mend your broken soul. He's standing there with His arms outstretched, waiting for you to come to Him so that He can comfort you and guide you and help you through the changes you may be experiencing. Change may be scary, but it can be a great thing. Christ and His Atonement have helped the blind to see, the deaf to hear, the lame to walk, the dead to live again, and the sinner to repent. Because of His love for us, we have a way to be cleansed and to change our hearts and our souls. As we strive to align our goals and desires with the principles of the Gospel, we will grow closer to our Father in Heaven and will understand more and more how we can live with Him again. — Jayda Skidmore

Hey, don't worry. I'll see you in a few days. Wait for me?" Mikas tugged on his sleeve again playfully, trying his best to pull Blue from his sulking mood. Blue shook his head. He was weary. Weary of feeling helpless as he watched Mikas deal his life away for so little; money, protection, status. Weary of waiting patiently for Mikas to come back to him or to even notice that he'd been waiting for him for years now. "Of course. That's all I ever do, — A.M. Daily

He always found it a miracle that anyone wanted his company. Women especially - men will cuddle a rock. When he first started getting laid he couldn't quite believe that the women in his bed weren't there by mistake. Sometimes he'd leave the room and then peer back in, and then peer in again, incredulous that a woman was actually lying there naked, waiting for him. As if. In time he found his thing: fly in like a fool to start, then turn on the silver tongue. Talk and cock, talk and cock, yessir. One time a girl confessed that Vicky, his friend the nurse, had given her a warning before she introduced them. Take one look and if you don't like what you see don't even say hi or you'll end up wanting to fuck. Best thing anyone ever said about him. It didn't matter that they never came back, or rarely. He didn't mind being disposable. — Yuri Herrera

It's been the toughest week of my life, not touching you. Not talking to you. Waiting to see what you were going to do." He kissed her again, a warm, damp touch of lips, exquisitely controlled. "But it doesn't matter whether you stay or go. I'll still need you. So if you want to go off to Boston, Ill wait. Right here, whenever you need me. — Rachel Caine

Sometimes it is difficult to see the goodness in your life when you are in turmoil. Just remember that even during a storm, the sun is shining. You may not see it, but it is always there above the clouds, waiting to warm you again. — Karen Lynch

This kid, this little fucking kid who didn't know him at all, had just given him his first gift, nothing expected in return, no favors, no stipulations, no nothing. He'd been wrong. There was something sweeter than seeing fear in his old man's eyes. Eva Fox was far sweeter. if he ever had a kid, he wanted a kid like this one.
"Thanks darlin'," He said hoarsely.
"Will I ever see you again?" She cocked her head to the side, wide eyed, waiting for his response. He stared into her eyes, too big for her face. Big and smoky gray like a thunderstorm. Fucking beautiful.
He smiled. "Hope so sweetheart. — Madeline Sheehan

You don't forget. You don't 'get over it'. You just find a way to stuff the pain in a pocket somewhere inside. But every once in a while, something - some stupid, insignificant little thing - triggers it.
The worst pain you have ever felt. And you have to start all over. Feel the same jerking agony that only comes when you realize, when you remember that you'll never see his face again, that you'll never be able to share that stupid thing that reminded you of him in the first place.
The pain never goes away. It only dulls, waiting for another trigger. — Julie Hockley

Oh, Charlotta dear, I'd have told you all about it if it were my secret ... but it's Miss Lavendar's, you see. However, I'll tell you this much ... and if nothing comes of it you must never breathe a word about it to a living soul. You see, Prince Charming is coming tonight. He came long ago, but in a foolish moment went away and wandered afar and forgot the secret of the magic pathway to the enchanted castle, where the princess was weeping her faithful heart out for me. But at last he remembered it again and the princess is waiting still ... because nobody but her own dear prince could carry her off."
Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am, what is that is prose?" gasped the mystified Charlotta. — L.M. Montgomery

Luce," he said at last, his voice soft. "what do you want me to do?" He paused, waiting for my response, but I wasn't sure what he was asking, so no response came.
"Please, just tell me," he continued. "Tell me what you want me to say, and do, when it comes to Adriana or any other girl that looks my way, and I'll do it. You want me to fire a spit wad between their eyes? So be it. You want me to flip them off any time any one of them looks my way? You got it. You want me to poke my eyes out so I can't see another one of their suggestive smiles again?" he trailed on, half of his face squishing together. "Well, that would suck, but I'd do it. For you." Cradling my face in his hands again, he leaned forward so his eyes were staring into mine from half a foot away. "Just tell me, baby. What do you want me to do? — Nicole Williams

I have waited for this, Beth, this moment," he whispered as he took her hands in his and brought her fingertips to his mouth, kissing each fingertip before placing her palms on either side of his face. "When Sussex, Black and I returned from the East, I watched you as you did this - touched Sussex, then Black. And I waited, holding my breath, barely able to control my feelings, waiting to feel your touch on my face. But you did not. You made a polite enquiry after my health and left me standing alone by the hearth. And, then, the other afternoon with Sheldon, you touched him, and I was alone, and apart again. Remembering what it was like to await your touch, and then never to feel it. Beth," he whispered as he moved closer to her, "won't you touch me? See me? — Charlotte Featherstone

You lean back against the door with bowed head making ready to set out. By the time you open your eyes your feet have disappeared and the skirt of your great coat come to rest on the surface of the snow. The dark scene seems lit from below. You see yourself at the last outset leaning against the door with closed eyes waiting for the word from you to go. To be gone.Then the snowlit scene. You lie in the dark with closed eyes and see yourself there as described making ready to strike out and away across the expanse of light. You hear again the click of the door pulled gently to and the silence before the steps can start. Next thing you are on your way across the white pasture afrolic with lambs in spring and strewn with red placantae. — Samuel Beckett

I've been living in waiting. I must move on. That's why we're here. Grandmamma said that the cream of Society comes here, and if anyone knows anything about his travels or his disappearance, this would be the place to find out about it.
"And have you discovered anything?" Adele asked.
"The cream," Pippa sighed, "has obviously curdled. We have one more gentleman to speak with, and then we'll move on. This fellow is said to know everyone and everything too or, at least, everything he wants to know. He does favors for his friends as well, Grandfather said. We'll see."
"Why don't you employ a Runner?"
"That way the whole world will know. This way, only the privileged few do."
"And if you find Noel is alive?" Adele asked.
"I'll kill him," Pippa said.
Her friend's eyes opened wide. "You're joking, of course.
Pippa only sighed again. — Edith Layton

Don't drop him," said Peter's mother to his father. "Don't you dare drop him." She was laughing.
"I will not," said his father. "I could not." For he is Peter Augustus Duchene, and he will always return to me.
Again and again, Peter's father threw him up in the air. Again and again, Peter felt himself suspended in nothingness for a moment, just a moment, and then he was pulled back, returned to the sweetness of the earth and the warmth of his father's waiting arms.
"See?" said his father to his mother. "Do you see how he always comes back to me? — Kate DiCamillo

If I die, I will wait for you, do you understand? No matter how long. I will watch from beyond to make sure you live every year you have to its fullest, and then we'll have so much to talk about when I see you again ... (Bones) — Jeaniene Frost

See that tree?" It was a stubby cypress tree, all bent and twisted.
"Yeah, I see it."
"It's my favorite tree."
"It's not that great a tree," I said.
"That's it. That's exactly it. It's like me. The wind beat the holy crap out of it when it was just a sapling. Never could straighten itself out again." He sort of smiled at me. "But, Zach, it didn't die." He looked like maybe he wanted to cry. But he didn't. "It's alive."
"Maybe it should have just given up."
"That tree didn't know how to do that. It only knew how to live. Crooked. Bent. Taller trees dwarfing it even more. It just wanted to live. I named it, you know?"
He was waiting for me to ask what he'd named it
but I decided I didn't want to ask.
"Zach," he whispered. "The tree's name is Zach."[p. 135] — Benjamin Alire Saenz

I grabbed Liam's arm as he passed me on his way to the tunnel door, kissing his cheek. "See you later tonight."
He stepped down into the tunnel, shouldering a backpack Cole had left for him there. When I turned to say good-bye to the other Stewart, he'd stooped, turned his cheek toward me, and was waiting. I flicked it with my finger, making him laugh again.
"You're impossible," I informed him.
"It's all part of my charm," he said, shifting the heavy bag on his shoulder. "Take care of things, Boss."
"Take care of him." I said, pointedly.
He gave one last mock salute before shutting the door to the tunnel. I waited until the sound of his and the others' steps faded completely before locking the door after him. — Alexandra Bracken

By the time I slip back to my room, it's almost six. Jasmine is in bed, awake and waiting for me ... "Where were you?"
Where was I? Chased by a fat guard, hit by a laugh attack and nearly thrown out of Stanford University Math Camp, never to see the light of the campus ever again, and certainly not as a future student. — Justina Chen

He did it now, holding it up before his eyes as he had as a boy, and it did its old, old trick. Through the floating snow you could see a little gingerbread house with a path leading up to it. The gingerbread shutters were closed, but as an imaginative boy you could fancy that one of the shutters was being folded back (as indeed, one of them seemed to be folding back now) by a long white hand, and then a pallid face would be looking out at you, grinning with long teeth, inviting you into this house beyond the world in its slow and endless fantasy-land of false snow, where time was a myth. The face was looking out at him now, pallid and hungry, a face that would never look on daylight or blue skies again.
It was his own face.
He threw the paperweight into the corner and it shattered. He left without waiting to see what might leak out of it. — Stephen King

When the right chance to love comes in hand, you have not to let it go, It might be the last chance you would've been waiting for and when it's gone, you will never see it again. — Auliq Ice

The highway looked different to him now, as they drove on. In theory it was the same stretch of tarmac, bounded by the same traffic paraphernalia and flimsy metal fences, but it had been transformed by their own intent. It was no longer a straight line to an airport, it was a mysterious hinterland of shadowy detours and hidey-holes. Proof, once again, that reality was not objective, but always waiting to be reshaped and redefined by one's attitude. Of course, everybody on earth had the power to reshape reality. It was one of the things Peter and Beatrice talked about a lot. The challenge of getting people to grasp that life was only as grim and confining as you perceived it to be. The challenge of getting people to see that the immutable facts of existence were not so immutable after all. The challenge of finding a simpler word for immutable than immutable. — Michel Faber

It's easy to be bold in the moment, because all you have is what you can process: see, smell, feel, taste. And that's a very small amount of what is. But afterward, when everything decompresses and uncoils bit by bit, and the horror of what you did and what happened to your friends hits you. It's overwhelming. That's the curse of this naval war. You fight, then spend months waiting, engaged only by the tedium of routine. Then you fight again. I — Pierce Brown

I remember standing on a street corner with the black painter Beauford Delaney down in the Village, waiting for the light to change, and he pointed down and said, 'Look.' I looked and all I saw was water. And he said, 'Look again,' which I did, and I saw oil on the water and the city reflected in the puddle. It was a great revelation to me. I can't explain it. He taught me how to see, and how to trust what I saw. Painters have often taught writers how to see. And once you've had that experience, you see differently. — James A. Baldwin

If we would only testify to the truth as we see it, it would turn out that there are hundreds, thousands, even millions of other people just as we are, who see the truth as we do ... and are only waiting, again as we are, for someone to proclaim it. The Kingdom of God is within you. — Leo Tolstoy

The desire to never leave your side, the desire to never see you again. The desire to see your face asleep on the pillow beside my face and to see your eyes open in the morning when I lie next to you - just watching you, waiting for you to wake up. — John Irving

I ran a constant low fever waiting for my ride to come and take me away to something finer. I lay in bed at night, watching the red beacon on top of the water tower, a clear signal to me of the beauty and mystery of a life that waited for me far away, and thought of Housman's poem,
"Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom upon the bough.
It stands among the woodland ride,
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my three-score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again ... "
and would have run away to where people would appreciate me, had I known of such a place, had I thought my parents would understand. But if I had said, "Along the woodland I must go to see the cherry hung with snow," they would have said, "Oh,no, you don't. You're going to stay right here and finish up what I told you to do three hours ago. Besides, those aren't cherry trees, those are crab apples. — Garrison Keillor

Move on, sky is not limit, wind can touch you, water can dip you, mother will care you, wife will nurture you and above all, oneday you will see your child following, up above the sky; you became a star, twinkling, watching and waiting to come back again, on earth. — Santosh Kalwar

Never forget Yesu is King. Never forget your home is in another world. Never forget your father will be waiting to see you again. — Randy Alcorn

Mike stood in-line, waiting for the mealtime muck that passed for lunch at his school canteen. He knew he was getting close to the front now, as he tightly held his tray. Not just because he could see this as you might expect, but because he could smell Margery the school cook's body odour. The children at the front were already holding their breath. You could see a line of pink faces close to him, to red, then purple closest to Margery. Only when they left at the end did they breathe for air and turn back to their normal colour again, like a deep sea diver after a long plunge.

"Margery the Meal Murderer" was her name for most school kids. — L.P. Donnelli

I've seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil. Then I went back to writing and I entered far into the story and was lost in it. I was writing it now and it was not writing itself and I did not look up nor know anything about the time nor think where I was nor order any more rum St. James. I was tired of rum St. James without thinking about it. Then the story was finished and I was very tired. I read the last paragraph and then I looked up and looked for the girl and she had gone. I hope she's gone with a good man, I thought. But I felt sad. — Ernest Hemingway,

Ask me again, Tristan read on his cell phone.
Ask what? he sent back.
Why I call you Sparky. Michael fumbled with the keys, not looking up.
Well, sure, why? Tristan sent back.
You light me up, came the answer, and Tristan's nimble fingers stopped on the keys. He stared hard at the small screen on his phone, the text message right there, waiting to see if he would send a reply. He just sat and stared till his phone turned off, unable to look up into the oh-so-blue eyes of the man who had sent it. — Z.A. Maxfield

Eventually,we would mean nothing to each other and become strangers again. What I want you to do, either become someone to me or stay nothing at all because when we go strangers to each other, I don't wanna see another me by your side waiting to be nothing.. — Himmilicious

And if you are waiting for a new book in a long ongoing series, whether from George or from Pat Rothfuss or from someone else ...
Wait. Read the original book again. Read something else. Get on with your life. Hope that the author is writing the book you want to read, and not dying, or something equally as dramatic. And if he paints the house, that's fine.
And ( ... ) in the future, when you see other people complaining that George R.R. Martin has been spotted doing something other than writing the book they are waiting for, explain to them, more politely than I did the first time, the simple and unanswerable truth: George R. R. Martin is not working for you. — Neil Gaiman

Alright! You sir, you sir, how about a shave?
Come and visit your good friend Sweeney.
You sir, too sir? Welcome to the grave.
I will have vengenance.
I will have salvation.
Who sir, you sir?
No ones in the chair, Come on! Come on!
Sweeney's. waiting. I want you bleeders.
You sir! Anybody!
Gentlemen now don't be shy!
Not one man, no, nor ten men.
Nor a hundred can assuage me.
I will have you!
And I will get him back even as he gloats
In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats.
And my Lucy lies in ashes
And I'll never see my girl again.
But the work waits!
I'm alive at last!
And I'm full of joy! — Stephen Sondheim

. . . what I told Malory happened next is that when he looked over at her then it was like he'd been waiting a hundred years to see her, and this crazy ass Ledfeather girl all the way from Standing Rock, she looked off after the elk and then back at Doby through her hair, like she'd maybe been waiting for him too, but was scared a little, wanted to be sure, so Doby opened his mouth and said her name across the backseat of Junior's cab, Claire, like a flower opening in his mouth, and she held her lips together and nodded thank you to him, yes, thank you, and then swallowed what was in her throat and just let the sides of their hands touch together again some like it didn't really matter.
But it did. — Stephen Graham Jones

I'll be back before nightfall." She crammed her handkerchief back up her sleeve and gathered the reins. "Julia?" She stopped, but didn't look at him. "I'll be waiting for you." She swallowed and nodded, but shouted giddyap without answering. She was pretty certain he had that look in his eye again, and she didn't want to see it. — Melissa Jagears

Forgive me, madam," he said lightly, amused, "but waiting to make love to you again is straining my nerves."
She scoffed but she was quite shaken; he could see it in her expression, in the way she nervously toyed with the buttons on her pelisse.
"How awfully presumptuous of you to think I'd let you."
"You will," he insisted soothingly.
She gaped at him.
"Please continue," he urged. "I'm aching to hear the rest."
"You're as arrogant as usual."
"You missed it, though."
"I absolutely did not," she asserted.
He grinned. "You missed my arrogance almost as much as I missed your impudence, little one."
"That's absurd."
"I love you, Caroline," he softly, quickly replied, catching her off guard with such tenderness. "Move on before I decide I'm finished with this conversation, rip off your clothes, and show you how much. — Adele Ashworth

I'm not sure anyone's ever experienced enlightenment, been born again, been called to repentance or decided to sell their belongings on account of a system. The voice, the tale, the image, the parable that gets through to you
that wins your heart
religiously is the one that makes it past your defenses. You've been won over, and you probably didn't see it coming. You've been enlisted into a drama, whether positively or negatively, and it shouldn't be controversial to note that it happens all the time. When you really think about it, there's one waiting around every corner. It's as near as the story, song or image you can't get out of your head. Religion happens when we get pulled in, moved, called out or compelled by something outside ourselves. It could be a car commercial, a lyric, a painting, a theatrical performance or the magnetic pull of an Apple store. The calls to worship are everywhere. — David Dark

He didn't know how to say good-bye. His throat ached from the strain of holding back his emotions. "I don't want to leave you," he said humbly, reaching for her cold, stiff hands.
Emma lowered her head, her tears falling freely. "I'll never see you again, will I?"
He shook his head. "Not in this lifetime," he said hoarsely.
She pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her wet lashes brush his cheek. "Then I'll wait a hundred years," she whispered. "Or a thousand, if I must. Remember that, Nikki. I'll be waiting for you to come to me. — Lisa Kleypas