“ Waiting, daily waiting, with fire alive in heart and brain, Waiting, yearly waiting, seeming but to wait for pain. Waiting, striving, waiting, wisdom's goal I feign would win, Waiting, weeping, waiting, ever bearing Adam's sin; Waiting, vainly waiting, the race is for the swift and strong; Waiting, sighing, waiting, pouring forth my grief in song. Waiting, fearing, waiting, while the shadows gather deep, Waiting, doubting, waiting, down the rocky cliffs they creep; Waiting, longing, waiting, for man's promises not filled, Waiting, trusting, waiting, Jesus speaks and all is stilled. ”
Waiting
Definition and stakes
Waiting, defined as the act of postponing action until an anticipated event occurs, has long been a profound literary theme, reflecting humanity's tension between expectation and inactivity. From Mary Alice Walton’s spiritual struggle—“Waiting, daily waiting, with fire alive in heart and brain”—to the existential reflections in The Quest (“The whole world is pervaded by the pestiferous breath of the decay of a scarcely-born present”), writers have examined waiting as both a physical and metaphysical condition.
Whether depicted as a “slow agony” of suspense, as Mrs. Oliphant writes, or as a trial of faith, as Adriana Spadoni suggests (“Keep heart. Keep faith. Do not kill the little spark”), the theme highlights the interplay of hope, anxiety, and perseverance. Literature thus portrays waiting not merely as a passive state but as a crucible forging human determination and meaning.
Quotes about “waiting”
Various authors, The Quest (1920)
“ I tell you that whatever we seem to finish on earth ever generates new waiting and hoping. The whole world is pervaded by the pestiferous breath of the decay of a scarcely-born present. Who has not felt the enervating weakness that seizes on one when sitting in the waiting-room of a doctor or lawyer or official? What we call life is the waiting-room of death! "Suddenly I realized then and there what Time is. ”
Various, Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXI, No… (1842)
“ Oh the slow agony of waiting! the torture of enumerating minutes—each minute seemingly an age—the dull, heart-sickening suspense of awaiting tidings—tidings which the heart tells us—the heart, too faithful prophet of the future—cannot by possibility be good; while reason interposes her vain veto to the heart’s decision, and hope uplifts her false and siren song. ”
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