Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.
For it is the fate of a woman Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Runnng through caverns of darkness.
Every man must patiently bide his time. He must wait -- not in listless idleness but in constant, steady, cheerful endeavors, always willing and fulfilling and accomplishing his task, that when the occasion comes he may be equal to the occasion.
Let us labor for an inward stillness-- An inward stillness and an inward healing. That perfect silence where the lips and heart Are still, and we no longer entertain Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions, But God alone speaks to us and we wait In singleness of heart that we may know His will, and in the silence of our spirits, That we may do His will and do that only
Success is not something to wait for, it is something to work for.
Learn to labour and to wait.
All things come round to him who will but wait.
Labor with what zeal we will, Something still remains undone, Something uncompleted still Waits the rising of the sun.
Perhaps the greatest lesson which the lives of literary men teach us is told in a single word* Wait!
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