Ran Out Of Patience Quotes

She said she was a nurse. I replied that she must have a lot of patience—and patients. I would have said more, but I ran out of homophones.

One evening Milarepa returned to his cave after gathering firewood, only to find it filled with demons. They were cooking his food, reading his books, sleeping in his bed. They had taken over the joint. He knew about nonduality of self and other, but he still didn’t quite know how to get these guys out of his cave. Even though he had the sense that they were just a projection of his own mind—all the unwanted parts of himself—he didn’t know how to get rid of them. So first he taught them the dharma. He sat on this seat that was higher than they were and said things to them about how we are all one. He talked about compassion and shunyata and how poison is medicine. Nothing happened. The demons were still there. Then he lost his patience and got angry and ran at them. They just laughed at him. Finally, he gave up and just sat down on the floor, saying, “I’m not going away and it looks like you’re not either, so let’s just live here together.” At that point, all of them left except one. Milarepa said, “Oh, this one is particularly vicious.” (We all know that one. Sometimes we have lots of them like that. Sometimes we feel that’s all we’ve got.) He didn’t know what to do, so he surrendered himself even further. He walked over and put himself right into the mouth of the demon and said, “Just eat me up if you want to.” Then that demon left too.

I am so fed up of having to explain to people that Danny is not just tired; if only that were the case. We have lost friends, good friends, when we ran out of patience with explaining that Danny was off school so much, not because he had friendship issues or didn’t like his classes, but because he had an illness that seemed to be eating him up from the inside, despite it not really being visible on the outside.

In the old days he had clutched life with such violence that the juice of it ran out between his fingers and was lost, but now he would touch it delicately, thankful for the good and accepting the ills with patience.

Here’s the thing. I’ve been kicked out of home. After the last thing I did I ran out of chances. Tipped all my parents’ patience out on the floor like the last bit of milk in the container. They just lost it. Fair enough, I suppose. I did do something pretty bad. So bad I can’t even say it out loud. Neither can Mum. We both just: Don’t. Talk. About. It.

I rub my hand down my face, frustrated. This girl in front of me tests my patience like hell. When she ran to me after her dad kicked her out, I thought she still had feelings for me. She needed a place to stay, and I needed her. I offered her a room, thinking if she was around me every day, she would remember she loves me. I was dead wrong. Somewhere along the way, we switched roles, I became the one who so desperately needed her and she became cold and closed off. She isn’t my savior; she’s my punishment.

The Leaving" My father said I could not do it, but all night I picked the peaches. The orchard was still, the canals ran steadily. I was a girl then, my chest its own walled garden. How many ladders to gather an orchard? I had only one and a long patience with lit hands and the looking of the stars which moved right through me the way the water moved through the canals with a voice that seemed to speak of this moonless gathering and those who had gathered before me. I put the peaches in the pond’s cold water, all night up the ladder and down, all night my hands twisting fruit as if I were entering a thousand doors, all night my back a straight road to the sky. And then out of its own goodness, out of the far fields of the stars, the morning came, and inside me was the stillness a bell possesses just after it has been rung, before the metal begins to long again for the clapper’s stroke. The light came over the orchard. The canals were silver and then were not. and the pond was–I could see as I laid the last peach in the water–full of fish and eyes.

Her heartbeat went from fear-frantic to lust-induced, manic tom-tom in a tenth of a second. “Sebastian.” A frisson ran from her temple to her toes and the tight place inside her chest unfurled as she breathed his name. “Are you real?” In response he plunged his fingers into her wet hair. Gripping her head in a hard palm, he took her mouth in a rough, carnal kiss that left nothing to the imagination. She knew precisely what he wanted because ever since that night, she’d been wanting it, too. She responded with equal passion, snaking her hand around to the back of his neck and holding him in place as she thoroughly enjoyed her first real-world kiss in way, way too long. His mouth left hers, and she whimpered in protest. “Come back; I wasn’t done.” “Patience is a virtue.” He nibbled her earlobe, making her shudder, then swirled his hot, wet tongue in her ear until she arched her neck with a thick moan. His mouth, tongue, and teeth made her forget where she was for just a little while. Made her forget where she was and what was about to transpire. Sebastian shifted his head the few inches required to plunder her mouth again. She saw fireworks behind her closed lids as he dragged his firm mouth back and forth across hers before plunging his tongue back to duel with hers. Dizzy with lust and longing, heart about to burst out of her chest, Michaela couldn’t—forgot to—draw a breath and ripped her lips from his to drag in lifesaving oxygen. “You’re t-torturing me—” “Breathing is highly overrated.

Why did you come here tonight?” she asked. “Other than the fact that you’ve finally come to your senses and realize you love me.” Chuckling, Grey reached up and untied the ribbons that held her mask. The pretty silk fell away to reveal the beautiful face beneath. “I missed you,” he replied honestly. “And you were right-about everything. I’m tired of drifting through life. I want to live again-with you.” A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “I think that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” He grinned. “I have more.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I’m tired of talking.” She kissed him, teasing his lips with the ripe curves of hers, sliding her tongue inside to rub against his in a sensual rhythm that had him fisting his hands in her skirts. By the time they reached Mayfair, Grey’s hair was mussed, Rose’s skirts crushed, and he was harder than an oratory competition for mutes. “I can’t believe you came,” she told him as the entered the house, arms wrapped around each other. “I’m so proud of you.” “I wouldn’t have done it without you.” She shook her head. “You did it for yourself not for me.” Perhaps that was true, and perhaps it wasn’t. He had no interest in discussing it tonight. “It’s just the beginning,” he promised. “I’m going to go wherever you want to go from now on. Within reason.” She laughed. “Of course. We can’t have you attending a musicale just to please me, can we?” She gazed up at him. “You know, I think I’m going to want to spend plenty of evenings at home as well. That time I spent out of society had some very soothing moments.” “Of course,” he agreed, thinking about all the things they could do to one another at home. Alone. “There has to be moderation.” Upstairs in their bedroom, he undressed her, unbuttoning each tiny button one by one until she sighed in exasperation. “In a hurry?” he teased. His wife got her revenge, when clad only in her chemise and stockings, she turned those nimble fingers of hers to his cravat, working the knot so slowly he thought he might go mad. She worsened the torment by slowly rubbing her hips against his thigh. His cock was so rigid he could hang clothes on it, and the need to bury himself inside her consumed him. Still, a skilled lover knows when to have patience-and a man in love knows that his woman’s pleasure comes far, far before his own. So, as ready as he was, Grey was in no hurry to let this night end, not when it might prove to be the best of his new-found life. Wearing only his trousers, he took Rose’s hand and led her to their bed. He climbed onto the mattress and pulled her down beside him, lying so that they were face-to-face. Warm fingers came up to gently touch the scar that ran down his face. Odd, but he hadn’t thought of it at all that evening. In fact, he’d almost forgot about it. “I heard you that night,” he admitted. “When you told me you loved me.” Her head tilted. “I thought you were asleep.” “No.” He held her gaze as he raised his own hand to brush the softness of her cheek. “I should have said it then, but I love you too, Rose. So much.” Her smile was smug. “I know.” She kissed him again. “Make love to me.” His entire body pulsed. “I intend to, but there’s one thing I have to do first.” Rose frowned. “What’s that?” Grey pulled the brand-new copy of Voluptuous from beneath the pillow where he’d hidden it before going to the ball. “There’s a story in here that I want to read to you.

Leah had ignored Zidane's needs completely as she'd fulfilled her own albeit in a totally fictitious capacity and even though his dedication, patience and loyalty had not yet wavered, it was just a matter of time before the sands of his commitment finally ran out

Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a lowborn cat like you!” Firepaw’s patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d still feel humiliated if I were warrior-born. You’d feel ashamed whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground.” He lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!” Yellowfang stared at him, her orange eyes very wide. Firepaw carried on fiercely: “You’re just going to have to get used to being cared for until you are well enough to look after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag!

For there is no God but God of God's creation of the heavens and the earth in order to create next and find its angels and making it khalifa in the earth and the expulsion of ablys rest in eternal peace and the creation of heaven and fire For there is no God but God send alanbyaʾ and their role in the kingdom of Saudi Arabia for 950 years until Noah called to his words he said Noah is given on the ground of the unbelievers de ballara for there is no God but god awqdt fire must see do it For there is no God but God of Moses fled his country For there is no God but God v is the Jews killed issa for there is no God but God patience aywb gold vision Jacob and enter yusuf into the prison he was in the belly of the shark and the slaughter of yahya and dissemination of zakaria For there is no God but god awdhy alnby out of Muhammad-may peace be upon him and encouraged in the guard and hit on him and broke his quarters and flew daughters expelled from his country For there is no God but God has made an abdomen hamza asd God Hands and feet amputated jafar spare ras musab graphic killing For there is no God but God before its abou bakr he called a friend and left Pharaoh wager right before God in the territories of Omar p called Al-Faruq and their refusal to qarwn unfortunately the trap God! There is no God but God is the beginning and the end of the first and last it pride and greatness and complete it good word it happiness it high class it faith and peace There is no God but God will satisfy the Lord and enter paradise and expel satan and argues the owner when his golo and they posted twjrwa there is no God but God Muhammad is the messenger of God. For no god but Allah create the heavens and the earth and created the creation of Adam and the angels worship him and make it a successor in the land and the expulsion of the devil from his mercy and the creation of heaven and hell For no god but God sent prophets and messengers led by Noah 950 years until called on his people and said Noah Lord, do not destroy everything on the floor of the unbelievers Diarra for no god but God lit the fire to Abraham for no god but God, Moses fled his country For no god but God Tamr Jews killed Jesus for no god but God, the patience of Job, went sight of Jacob and Joseph to enter the prison and was Younis in the belly of the whale slaughter and Yahya Zakaria deployment For no god but God traumatized Prophet Muhammad Allah bless him and encouraged him in the head and beaten on his shoulder and broke Rbaith and divorced daughters and was expelled from his country For no god but God made their belly Hamzah Asadullah And amputated the hand of Jafar and beheaded and killed Musab Sumih For no god but God accepted Abu Bakr was called the friend of God and left Pharaoh Vagrgah in the sea and before that was called Omar al-Faruq and its refusal to Karun Fajsv God to the earth No God but God is the beginning, first and last, and finally, a pride and greatness and perfection, a kind word, a happiness which is a high degree of faith and Islam No God but God, and accept the Lord into heaven and expel the devil and the owner argued with his Lord and Anscheroha Coloha rewarded is no god but God and Mohammed is the Messenger of Allah

Following Jesus requires precision and exacting care about how you use your time; what you read or watch or talk about; where you seek spiritual, mental, or emotional consolation; where you find pleasure; and how you amuse yourself. It takes patience, chiefly with yourself, as you try to make your way, and fail, and try again and again and again. It can be very tempting to cry out, “I will never be able to love, to forgive, to get off drugs to be free from fear . . .” Take heart! Jesus sympathizes with your weaknesses and challenges. He knows every temptation you face. He has experienced them all himself, so he is filled with compassion and mercy for you. Are you tired of walking on the road that leads to life? Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Don’t worry when your strength or endurance, wisdom or understanding run out. Jesus has sent the Holy Spirit to give you energy, patience, and self-control so that you can keep following him. If the road seems too hard, remember that Jesus wants to give you everything you need. He enjoys providing all the precision and endurance and faith you lack. And if you think you have strayed so far off the road that return is impossible, remember the father who ran, eagerly and joyfully, to welcome his prodigal child home. God the Father is on the lookout, too, waiting for you! He is on your side. He is by your side. He will always help you along the way.

All relationships need work and ours will need an extra dose of patience and honesty." Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "God knows, you two are drama queens." "Hey!" He laughed and slid his hands beneath the silk of her nightgown. "That's not a nice thing to call a man who was about to eat you like a peach." Biting her lower lip, she slung a leg over his muscled hip. "I take it back." Giving her a narrow-eyed glance, he kissed his way down her chest, hands stroking over her legs. "Not good enough." Settling back into the pillows, she ran her hands through his thick hair. "I take it back times two." Warm hands slid up her sides, pulling the nightgown around her waist. His breath blew across her belly button, making her giggle. "Lame apology." The feeling of his scruffy cheek rubbing against the soft skin of her hip made her squirm. His words, his vulnerability, struck a chord in her and her heart filled with love for him. "You are the wind beneath my wings." "Quoting Bette Midler is not going to get you out of this." Warm and comfortable, she enjoyed the leisurely pace of his movements. A soft brush of lips over the top of her mound, firm licks on the sensitive skin of her hipbone. Stretching her arms above her, she sighed at his appreciative rumble. There was so much gentleness in his touch, such an effort to please her in the movements of his mouth. He was completely beneath the blankets now and his hair brushed her inner thighs. "Oh," she squeaked out and gripped the sheets.

The knights performed their feats with very little planning and rarely did their post-feat paperwork, but they made up for these shortcomings with their fearlessness, their strength, and their energy. The king was also lucky to have a very good prime minister. The minister saw that taxes were collected, that the majority of the revenues were wisely spent to improve the kingdom, and that the excess monies were well managed. One day the prime minister died, and the king asked his bravest and most fearless knight to be the new minister. Unfortunately, the knight chosen for the job liked jumping on his white charger more than he liked caring for the affairs of the kingdom. He continued to gallop off to slay dragons whenever he had the opportunity and neglected tax collections, investments, improvements, and repairs. After only a short time, the king ran out of money, the peasants ran out of patience, and the kingdom collapsed.

I was going on a motorbike with a friend of mine in my area [Shah Faisal Colony] and suddenly we saw a university students’ union van. At that time, the union was run by the Jama‘at-e-Islami [IJT]. It was very surprising because the jama‘atis never dared to enter our area. Then I saw one badmash [rogue] called Sayyid in the van. So I told my friend: ‘Maybe they are planning to do something to us, to attack us. There must be something wrong, we must follow them.’ So we followed them in the colony and they parked the van in front of a house and Sayyid and another badmash came out of the car and they had two large boris [gunny bags] that looked very heavy. Then they dumped these two bags in that house. […] I decided that we should check on them in the morning. I gathered all our friends, maybe 20, 30, in my house, and in the early morning, we surrounded their house. At eight o’clock, Sayyid came back with the van and they started uploading the bags. When they were about to upload the second one, Tipu [the most well known PSF militant] came and, you know, he had no patience in him. I had told everyone, ‘Let them complete their job and then we’ll do something.’ But after the first batch [was uploaded in the van], Tipu shouted ‘O, Sayyid!’ He was carrying a gun—we only had one gun, with maybe 20 bullets—and he started firing at Sayyid. Sayyid ran away and the other man ran away and we captured all those bags. They were full of pistols, Sten guns, knives… Hundreds of them… That is the day we became rich in Karachi, when we realised that we could conquer all Karachi. Jama‘at was vanished from Karachi University for a month. Not a single of them went outside because they knew that we had guns now. It was the first time that we saw so many guns. Then the thinkers, the political people [like him] realised that something is happening. How come they have that much and are bringing that many revolvers in Karachi University? [Nearly] 500 revolvers and Sten guns? What is happening? Everybody realised that things in Karachi were about to change.32

So far as the beggar woman is concerned, there was certainly neither anything good nor anything bad in it, I was simply too distracted or too much preoccupied with one thing to act in any other way but according to vague memories. And one such memory says, for instance: 'Don't give too much to beggars, you'll regret it later.' Once as a very small boy I was given a Sechserl and felt a great urge to hand it to an old beggar woman who sat between the Grosse and the Kleine Ring. But the sum seemed to me enormous, a sum which probably never before had been given to a beggar, so I was ashamed in front of the beggar woman to do something so unheard-of, but give it to her I felt I must. I therefore changed the Sechserl into ten Kreuzers, gave one to the beggar woman, ran round the whole block of the Town Hall and the arcade near the Kleine Ring, arrived from the left as a completely new benefactor, gave the beggar woman another Kreuzer, started to run again and actually made this round ten times (or maybe not quite so many, for I believe the beggar woman lost her patience later and disappeared). In any case, toward the end I was so exhausted, morally as well, that I ran straight home and cried until my mother replaced the Sechserl. You see, I have bad luck with beggars, but I declare myself prepared to pay out my entire present and future fortune in the smallest Viennese bank notes to a beggar woman standing by the Opera, on condition that you're present and I may feel you close to me.

It was patience she ran out of, not love.

My father said I could not do it, but all night I picked the peaches. The orchard was still, the canals ran steadily. I was a girl then, my chest its own walled garden. How many ladders to gather an orchard? I had only one and a long patience with lit hands and the looking of the stars which moved right through me the way the water moved through the canals with a voice that seemed to speak of this moonless gathering and those who had gathered before me. I put the peaches in the pond's cold water, all night up the ladder and down, all night my hands twisting fruit as if I were entering a thousand doors, all night my back a straight road to the sky. And then out of its own goodness, out of the far fields of the stars, the morning came, and inside me was the stillness a bell possesses just after it has been rung, before the metal begins to long again for the clapper's stroke. The light came over the orchard. The canals were silver and then were not. and the pond was--I could see as I laid the last peach in the water--full of fish and eyes.

We got a bad case of head lice that winter and Aunt Cooter went berserk. Remember that? She was running from room to room, crying out about seeing Jesus up on high and trying to takeher clothes off — she was yelling, 'I want to put on the new raiment! Put away this old raiment, put on the new raiment!' Boy, that got tiresome real fast. We kept wrapping her up in sheets and she kept ripping them off. She'd been weak and puny for years but suddenly she had strength in her arms. It happens when people go berserk. I read that somewhere. We just ran out of patience. We threatened to put her in the loony bin but she was seeing Jesus so it didn't matter to her. Finally we had to give her a tranquilizer and I guess we overtranquilized her because she died. But she went quietly in her sleep, which was how she always wanted to go. And she saw Jesus, so that must have been a comfort. It was too cold to bury her right away, the ground was frozen so hard. They were going to use dynamite but the families of other dead people objected to that, so we just put her in the tool shed until spring. Stood her up and leaned her against the lumber pile.

But you’re a woman.” “Does that matter?” “I don’t know. Do you know how to tow cars?” Julie Parker did her best not to roll her eyes. At her age, it was a much less charming look. But still. “Your car is fine,” she said, trying for patience, but failing to hit the mark and landing on snark instead. “You ran out of gas on the 405 freeway. If we should be questioning someone’s ability to exist in the world, we should probably start with you.