Test My Patience Quotes

All through my life, I have been tested. My will has been tested, my courage has been tested, my strength has been tested. Now my patience and endurance are being tested.

Your testing my patience here, duchess," he growled. "If you have any doubt about my ability to fuck the ever-loving sarcasm right out of you, I'll be more than happy to clear it up.

Magic existed in his eyes, his energy as he lived his daily life. I could fall into his soul and lay my worries to rest, but if by chance this happened; it wouldn't last the test. because there's much to learn, before we can meet, I want to collide with his heart; allow our souls to fleet. His arms will hold my fears, but he won't carry the load; as it is my lesson to love myself, and find my own sense of hope. When we cross our paths, our knowledge will last the test; as patience fills the air and our burdens are put to rest, I will honour my truth, and seek what I desire; ever lasting love and passion set on fire.

You're the beginning, You're the ending, You're the one who rides the waves of my emotions, One who makes me compassionate, One who's the light of my dark self, I'll be the one always testing your patience, I'll be the one always annoying you, I'll be the one always hurting you, Why? Because I know you'll always be there to bear the jokes I crack, To tolerate my inside chaos, To see my vulnerable self, To misinterpreting your actions & intentions, I'll always be hardcore to deal with, Taking you over the edge, Because that's what I only know.

They say it's impossible. I refuse to believe it. The journey may be difficult and the desired end unlikely. My patience and commitment may be tested by something that won't happen overnight. It may be that I veer off the path or quit before reaching my goal, but that doesn't mean it is impossible.

You were all given the same chance. This day was your test. The monk who dropped the scale did so at my request. I was watching to see what you would do. I need someone who can wait with patience, and yet know when it is time to act without fear. Someone who is able to see patterns even when none may be obvious. Someone who can also express his own artistic viewpoint...I want someone who will leave the world a more beautiful place than he found it.

I don’t want to be in some relationship that’s just about trading apologies when things get hard. Doing that won’t make it all OK, you know? So, no, I don’t forgive you. But I fucking accept you, including all the shit you do that tests my patience. Because I love you.

So much of dealing with a disease is waiting. Waiting for appointments, for tests, for "procedures." And waiting, more broadly, for it--for the thing itself, for the other shoe to drop. Except in the waiting you keep forgetting that "it" will really happen--it's more like a threat, an anxiety: Will my love love me forever?

I swear…she will test my patience to the point of breaking me and her body will be collateral damage.

I'll wait for you as long as it takes, Evan," he says. "I'll test your patience," I warn, my smile beginning to show itself again. "You already do.

All these stupid, practical things that cannot be postponed are a test of my patience

Just as Cam left Ivo Jenner’s apartments, St. Vincent met him in the hall. There was a scowl on the blond man’s face, and a vein of chilling arrogance in his tone. “If my wife finds comfort in trite Gypsy homilies, I have no objection to your offering them. However, if you ever kiss her again, no matter how platonic the fashion, I’ll make a eunuch of you.” The fact that St. Vincent could stoop to petty jealousy when Ivo Jenner was not yet cold in his bed might have outraged some men. Cam, however, regarded the autocratic viscount with speculative interest. Deliberately calibrating his reply to test the other man, Cam said softly, “Had I ever wanted her that way, I would have had her by now.” There it was— a flash of warning in St. Vincent’s ice-blue eyes that revealed a depth of feeling he would not admit to. Cam had never seen anything like the mute longing that St. Vincent felt for his own wife. No one could fail to observe that whenever Evie entered the room, St.Vincent practically vibrated like a tuning fork. “It is possible to care about a woman without wanting to bed her,” Cam pointed out. “But it appears that you don’t agree. Or are you so obsessed with her that you can’t fathom how anyone else could fail to feel the same?” “I’m not obsessed with her,” St. Vincent snapped. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Cam stared into the man’s hard eyes, his usual reserve of patience nearly depleted. “Of course you are. Anyone could see it.” St. Vincent gave him a warning glance. “Another word,” he said thickly, “and you’ll go the way of Egan.” Cam raised his hands in a mocking gesture of self-defense. “Warning taken.

My brothers and sisters, you will have many kinds of trouble. But this gives you a reason to be very happy. You know that when your faith is tested, you learn to be patient in suffering. If you let that patience work in you, the end result will be good. You will be mature and complete. You will be all that God wants you to be.

Abel, get away from him." "No, I—" Pacer took a step toward them. "Get up, now." He pointed a finger at the ground. "And come here." Abel opened and closed his mouth several times, paralyzed. "Pacer, we were just—" "I won't say it again, Abel." He hated to admit it, but Pacer's demanding tone had sent a flash of anticipation through his system. Half- wanting to keep going, to test the limits of Pacer's patience, Abel paused for just another second before standing up and walking over to Pacer. "You don't have to sound so scary," he said. Pacer snorted, grabbing hold of Abel's wrist. "Please. You should be happy I didn't just pull you over my knee." "Pacer!" Abel's eyes widening as he looked over at Eric. He was watching them avidly. "Pacer, don't be so rough. He and I were just chatting." "Are you deaf?" Pacer replied. "Why was he whispering in your ear?" Grinning, Eric shook his head. "My bad. Maybe I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” He stood up and walked over to them. "Abel, I just wanted you to know: I'm not a homophobe." Abel stared at him. "What?" Then, after a moment, he looked at Pacer, who was studiously observing the twig he had snapped on the ground. "I see.

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.

Before I could respond, he snapped his fingers, and I was suddenly standing outside the mansion, my booted feet in the sand, the smell of salt overwhelming my senses, and the rolling ocean at my back. A growl of anger rose in my throat. “I hate it when you do that.” The smile on his face increased. “I know.” I absolutely loathed it, and the bastard did it every chance he got—usually about every five minutes whenever I was in his presence and mostly without any purpose. Sometimes he would just pop me from room to room for the hell of it. The last year or so of my life had been a real test of my short patience.

They’ll also have an extensive amount of makeup work to tackle during the midterm break—and no, that option is not available to you, so don’t ask and don’t test my patience. I can become very creative with my punishments if you force me to.” “See, but now you’ve got me curious,” Keefe told him. “Uh-uh,” Ro jumped in. “I have to suffer through this stuff with you.” “You do,” Magnate Leto agreed. “And I found an entire room filled with recordings of speeches from the Ancient Councillors that I think you’ll find particularly enjoyable.” Ro grabbed Keefe’s arm and hauled him toward the door. “We’re going to your session, and you’re acing that test and taking lots of notes or I will hang a banner in the middle of this campus—and we both know what I will have that banner say!” “Bo and Ro 4 Eva?” Keefe guessed, because he clearly had a death wish. “That’s it!” Ro picked him up, hefting him over her shoulder and trudging toward the door. “We’ll be back after study hall.” “You’ll be back tomorrow,” Magnate Leto corrected. “Lord Cassius is expecting you both to be home immediately after school—and I wouldn’t recommend disobeying.” “Why not?” Sophie asked. “He was in . . . a mood.” “Goody! Raise your hand if you’re jealous of my life!” Keefe said, twisting in Ro’s grasp to survey the room. “No takers?” “Don’t worry,” Ro told him, patting his back as she carried him into the hall. “I’ll sneak your dad some amoebas tonight.

Any Justification that does not lead to Biblical sanctification and mortification of sinful desires is a false justification no matter how many Solas you attach to it”. “See that your chief study be about the heart, that there God’s image may be planted, and his interest advanced, and the interest of the world and flesh subdued, and the love of every sin cast out, and the love of holiness succeed; and that you content not yourselves with seeming to do good in outward acts, when you are bad yourselves, and strangers to the great internal duties. The first and great work of a Christian is about his heart.” ~ Richard Baxter Never forget that truth is more important to the church than peace ~ JC Ryle "Truth demands confrontation. It must be loving confrontation, but there must be confrontation nonetheless.” ~ Francis Schaeffer I am not permitted to let my love be so merciful as to tolerate and endure false doctrine. When faith and doctrine are concerned and endangered, neither love nor patience are in order...when these are concerned, (neither toleration nor mercy are in order, but only anger, dispute, and destruction - to be sure, only with the Word of God as our weapon. ~ Martin Luther “Truth must be spoken, however it be taken.” ~ John Trapp “Hard words, if they be true, are better than soft words if they be false.” – C.H. Spurgeon “Oh my brethren, Bold hearted men are always called mean-spirited by cowards” – CH Spurgeon “The Bible says Iron sharpens Iron, But if your words don't have any iron in them, you ain't sharpening anyone”. “Peace often comes as a result of conflict!” ~ Don P Mt 18:15-17 Rom 12:18 “Peace if possible, truth at all costs.” ~ Martin Luther “The Scriptures argue and debate and dispute; they are full of polemics… We should always regret the necessity; but though we regret it and bemoan it, when we feel that a vital matter is at stake we must engage in argument. We must earnestly contend for the truth, and we are all called upon to do that by the New Testament.” Martyn Lloyd-Jones (Romans – Atonement and Justification) “It is one of the severest tests of friendship to tell your friend his faults. So to love a man that you cannot bear to see a stain upon him, and to speak painful truth through loving words, that is friendship.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher “Truth bites and it stings and it has a blade on it.” ~ Paul Washer Soft words produce hard hearts. Show me a church where soft words are preached and I will show you a church of hard hearts. Jeremiah said that the word of God is a hammer that shatters. Hard Preaching produces soft hearts. ~ J. MacArthur Glory follows afflictions, not as the day follows the night but as the spring follows the winter; for the winter prepares the earth for the spring, so do afflictions sanctified, prepare the soul for glory. ~ Richard Sibbes “Cowards never won heaven. Do not claim that you are begotten of God and have His royal blood running in your veins unless you can prove your lineage by this heroic spirit: to dare to be holy in spite of men and devils.” ~ William Gurnall

To the aangel of the church of Ephesus write, ‘These things says †He who holds the seven stars in His right hand, †who walks in the midst of the seven golden lampstands: 2†“I know your works, your labor, your bpatience, and that you cannot cbear those who are evil. And †you have tested those †who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars; 3“and you have persevered and have patience, and have labored for My name’s sake and have †not become weary. 4“Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love. 5“Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works, †or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from its place—unless you repent. 6“But this you have, that you hate the deeds of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate. 7†“He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give †to eat from †the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God.” 

A good upbringing is necessary for a long life, but sometimes the patience of the young trees is sorely tested. As I mentioned in chapter 5, "Tree Lottery," acorns and beechnuts fall at the feet of large "mother trees." Dr. Suzanne Simard, who helped discover maternal instincts in trees, describes mother trees as dominant trees widely linked to other trees in the forest through their fungal-root connections. These trees pass their legacy on to the next generation and exert their influence in the upbringing of the youngsters. "My" small beech trees, which have by now been waiting for at least eighty years, are standing under mother trees that are about two hundred years old -- the equivalent of forty-year-olds in human terms. The stunted trees can probably expect another two hundred years of twiddling their thumbs before it is finally their turn. The wait time is, however, made bearable. Their mothers are in contact with them through their root systems, and they pass along sugar and other nutrients. You might even say they are nursing their babies.

General R. E. Lee, Commanding Army of Northern Virginia: Yours of the 8th instant has been received. I am glad to find that you concur so entirely with me as to the want of our country in this trying hour, and am happy to add that after the first depression consequent upon our disasters in the West, indications have appeared that our people will exhibit that fortitude which we agree in believing is alone needful to secure ultimate success. It well became Sidney Johnston, when overwhelmed by a senseless clamor, to admit the rule that success is the test of merit, and yet there has been nothing which I have found to require a greater effort of patience than to bear the criticisms of the ignorant, who pronounce everything a failure which does not equal their expectations or desires, and can see no good result which is not in the line of their own imaginings. I admit the propriety of your conclusions, that an officer who loses the confidence of his troops should have his position changed, whatever may be his ability; but when I read the sentence I was not at all prepared for the application you were about to make. Expressions of discontent in the public journals furnish but little evidence of the sentiment of an army.… But suppose, my dear friend, that I were to admit, with all their implications, the points which you present, where am I to find that new commander who is to possess the greater ability which you believe to be required? I do not doubt the readiness with which you would give way to one who could accomplish all that you have wished, and you will do me the justice to believe that if Providence should kindly offer such a person for our use, I would not hesitate to avail of his services. My sight is not sufficiently penetrating to discover such hidden merit, if it exists, and I have but used to you the language of sober earnestness when I have impressed upon you the propriety of avoiding all unnecessary exposure to danger, because I felt our country could not bear to lose you. To ask me to substitute you by someone in my judgment more fit to command, or who would possess more of the confidence of the army or of the reflecting men in the country, is to demand of me an impossibility. It only remains for me to hope that you will take all possible care of yourself, that your health and strength may be entirely restored, and that the Lord will preserve you for the important duties devolved upon you in the struggle of our suffering country for the independence which we have engaged in war to maintain. As ever, very respectfully and truly yours, JEFFERSON DAVIS

life has taught me that love is stronger than hate. I know that evil is a powerful force, but I firmly believe that goodness will triumph even though at times it is long in coming and puts human patience and faith to hard tests.

My dear friend, a good attitude will determine your altitude. When you look at your life, career, job or family life, what do you say? Do you praise God? Do you blame the devil? A good attitude towards God makes Him move on your behalf. Just sit down and say, Today God, it is well with my soul, I am thankful I had a peaceful sleep, I am thankful I am alive with possibilities, I am thankful I have a roof over me, I am thankful I have a job, I am thankful that I have Family and Friends. Above all, I am thankful that I have the Lord Jesus Christ on my side. Be blessed and don't be envious or shocked when others are prospering because you don't know what they have been through to get there (test, trials and tribulation) so thank God for what you have. "Little is much when God is in it. It Is Well With My Soul! Touch someone’s life with this message. If God be for us,who can be against us?

Hunter’s mother stood over him, wringing her hands, while he gathered his gear to ride out. “My tua, your anger burns too hot. I fear for your woman when you find her.” His body tense, Hunter strode past his mother to his horse. “She has dishonored me.” “She does not know our ways. Is it a dishonor amongst her people to leave her husband?” Hunter slung his bags over his stallion’s back, securing them to the surcingle. “It is a dishonor here.” “Hunter, won’t you stop and talk with me?” “No. You talk woman-talk. Why is my father not here? I will tell you why. He knows she scattered the horses of every man in the village, leaving us defenseless against an attack. He knows she left without permission. He knows she has dishonored me! He sits in his lodge and says it is sure enough a good thing if I find her and beat her.” “He sits in his lodge because he has old knees that ache. Go and talk with him.” “I have no time. I must ride hard to catch my woman.” Hunter tried to walk inside his lodge, but his mother barred the way. He sighed and planted his hands on his hips. “Pia, you test my patience. I am weary, eh? And very angry.” “The horses have all been found. No harm was done.” “It took us two days to gather them! On foot! I will never hear the last of it! You call that no harm? Whatever punishment I choose, my woman deserves it, and more. Name me one woman you know who has run away from her husband. Just one, pia, and I will cool my anger.” Woman with Many Robes shook her head. “Comanche women are different. Your Loh-rhett-ah has cause to be upset. And cause to run. You understand that. While you’re riding to catch up with her, you think long on my words.

Did I test your patience, my father?” Many Horses seemed to ponder that question a moment. “I found myself short on patience the time you shot me in the thigh with your first bow and arrow. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been standing behind you.” Hunter laughed softly. “You weren’t when I let fly with the arrow. If I remember, I turned around to ask you a question.” “Which I never did answer. I always thanked the Great Ones that you were only knee high. If you’d been much taller, your brothers and sister never would have been born.

Did I test your patience, my father?” Many Horses seemed to ponder that question a moment. “I found myself short on patience the time you shot me in the thigh with your first bow and arrow. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been standing behind you.” Hunter laughed softly. “You weren’t when I let fly with the arrow. If I remember, I turned around to ask you a question.” “Which I never did answer. I always thanked the Great Ones that you were only knee high. If you’d been much taller, your brothers and sister never would have been born.” He sniffed again, then grinned. “Come to think of it, Warrior was even more dangerous with his first rifle. Remember the time he accidentally fired through my lodge and shot a hole in your mother’s cooking pot? She was boiling rabbit. The water hit the fire and filled the place with so much smoke, I nearly choked to death before I got everyone outside to safety.” Hunter threw back his head and roared with laughter. “I remember you pulling that rabbit out of the pot and telling Warrior it was a perfect shot, right through the heart. Except, of course, that it was gutted. And would he practice on live targets from then on?” “Speaking of pits in plum pudding, do you remember your sister’s first attempt? Your grandfather broke off his only remaining tooth trying to eat it.” “And swallowed tooth, pit and all, so he wouldn’t embarrass her in front of Gray Horse, who had come to court her.” Hunter placed a hand over his aching midriff and sighed. “It is good I came, my father. You have the gift. Already my heart is lighter.

When I was young, my friends and I always tested the PIs level of patience. For example, when synthesizing the specialties of old-days, the one-time risk of eating those dishes was calculated for minutes. Of course, in the end, we always wolfed down the unique meals they declared inedible. For example, the so-called hamburger we wanted to eat forced the PIs to assess the scale of risks while we were slurping up a half a deciliter of synthesized fat.

no one needs to choose here. We’re perfect just the way we are. All three of us… even if Murder Rabbit tests my patience every damn day.” Leon gave a dramatic gasp. “That’s what you’ve been calling me? Fuck. I like it.” Dammit, I was so in love with both of them it made me sick.

You look ravishing, as always, little one. It is only that, seeing you dressed like that and in a place like this, I fear my patience, as well as my self-control, will be tested. I have no doubt all eyes will be on you tonight.

I love brats. Love the way they clap back when being told what to do. Love how they test my patience. And I love punishing their asses when they go too far.

I can only give my own individual testimony, but the little I know experimentally of the doctrine of Christ’s second coming convinces me to regard it as most practical and precious, and makes me long to see others regard it the same way. I find it a powerful spring and stimulus to holy living, a motive for patience, for moderation, for spiritual-mindedness, a test for how I use my time, and a gauge for all my actions. “Would I want my Lord to find me in this place, doing what I am doing?

His strengths were my weaknesses, with his patience balancing my impatience.

I’m tempted to chain this girl to a fucking leash just for testing my patience.

You’ve got my come drying between your thighs right fucking now. And bruises in the shape of my fingers on your body. You. Are. Mine. And there’s nothing you can say or do to change that. Don’t fucking test me, my bella, because I’m running out of patience.

Help me, God, to be more patient with others, as You are with me. I pray to be a more patient person. I don’t pray for a difficult and trying experience to test my patience—life gives me enough of those opportunities! Instead I pray that, by Your Holy Spirit in me, I should be strengthened to be a continually patient person. For I know that patience is a fruit of the Spirit.

Temptation is really a solicitation to evil arising from the devil or born in the carnal nature of man. Trial is testing. It is that which proves us, tests us, and makes us stronger and better when we submit to the trial and work together with God in it “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.

Please, fuck me,” I beg softly. “I’m not going to fuck you this time,” he says in a hushed tone. “I’m going to go slow.” He leans down and kisses me deeply, swirling his tongue with mine as I moan, begging for more. “I’m going to show you how sexy and irresistible you are, how you test my patience.” He nips at my ear and then runs his tongue over where he just bit.

My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. – James 1:2–3

So, do I win this test of patience, then, Admiral?” His eyes swung into focus. Sharp, intent, steady focus. And then his lips curved in a slow, wicked smile that made her realize she was in over her head, here. Far over her head. The smile grew wicked. “Obviously . . . not.

God calls us to rejoice always and in everything. Rejoicing in trials is a tremendous act of faith because, in so doing, you are proclaiming both that you believe God is good in everything He does and that He will save you from the situation. But that we should rejoice in every situation is evident. For it is written, “Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!” Philippians 4:4 And also, “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” James 1:2–4 Endure all things with joy, knowing that God intends not only to save you from suffering but also to bless you in your trials. God would never give you a trial or an unsurmountable mountain in life unless He intended to be your strength to overcome—and to give you something better in the end. That blessing may not be physical, however; it may be eternal wisdom gained from your circumstances.

To my dear daughters, granddaughters, and all future brides, I thought it would be a wonderful tradition for each bride to write a little note and leave a legacy for those who come after her. How I wish my own mother had lived to see my wedding day and been present to share her wisdom! I make no pretense at being wise, but God is. The bible says we can ask for wisdom, and God will honor our request. As you consider marriage, first seek God's will and ask Him to direct your heart. Do not hasten to take your vows. Pause and reflect before you take such a momentous step, and be sure your mate honors God. A marriage is not just between a man and a woman--it is a holy union which must include the Lord to flourish. Ethan was God's gift to me. His patience, strength, and companionship were like a balm to my grief. We learned to work together and rely on one another until respect and affection sparked. Love came softly and grew in our hearts. How I thank God for bringing us together and blessing our union! Though hardships test us and extraordinary things thrill us, life is made up of mundane days. Love each other in the little, commonplace matters of life to strengthen your marriage, or it will wither from neglect. Appreciate what you have, and forgive as freely as you laugh. My darlings, my prayer is for you to make wise decisions of the heart--first in devoting your spirit to the Lord, then in giving your hand to a man. May each of you be blessed with a godly mate and know the joy of growing close together and growing old with him.

One area that would truly test my patience was the senators’ focus on benchmarks, and their demands that the Iraqi Council of Representatives enact, by specific deadlines, legislation in key areas such as de-Baathification, the sharing of oil revenues, and provincial elections. This was an approach I also had recommended to Baker and Hamilton, but I had not fully understood then just how tough these actions would be for the Iraqis, precisely because they would fundamentally set the country’s political and economic course for the future. Remember, they had no experience with compromise in thousands of years of history. Indeed, politics in Iraq from time immemorial had been a kill-or-be-killed activity. I would listen with growing outrage as hypocritical and obtuse American senators made all these demands of Iraqi legislators and yet themselves could not even pass budgets or appropriations bills, not to mention deal with tough challenges like the budget deficit, Social Security, and entitlement reform. So many times I wanted to come right out of my chair at the witness table and scream, You guys have been in business for over two hundred years and can’t pass routine legislation. How can you be so impatient with a bunch of parliamentarians who’ve been at it a year after four thousand years of dictatorship? The discipline required to keep my mouth shut left me exhausted at the end of every hearing.

All my children would be--” Hunter rolled his eyes. “Can you see me, surrounded by White Eyes?” “Ah, that is the trouble. She is a White Eyes.” Many Horses nodded and, in a teasing voice, said, “I don’t blame you there. No man could be proud of a son with white blood. He’d be weak and cowardly, a shame to any who claimed him.” Hunter froze and glanced up. The white blood in his own veins was an unspoken truth between him and his father. Never before had Many Horses alluded to it. Many Horses sniffed and rubbed the ash from his nose. “Of course, there are the rare exceptions. I suppose a man could raise a child of mixed blood and teach him to be one of the true People. It would take work, though.” The stiffness eased from Hunter’s shoulders. “Did I test your patience, my father?” Many Horses seemed to ponder that question a moment. “I found myself short on patience the time you shot me in the thigh with your first bow and arrow. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been standing behind you.” Hunter laughed softly. “You weren’t when I let fly with the arrow. If I remember, I turned around to ask you a question.” “Which I never did answer. I always thanked the Great Ones that you were only knee high. If you’d been much taller, your brothers and sister never would have been born.” He sniffed again, then grinned. “Come to think of it, Warrior was even more dangerous with his first rifle. Remember the time he accidentally fired through my lodge and shot a hole in your mother’s cooking pot? She was boiling rabbit. The water hit the fire and filled the place with so much smoke, I nearly choked to death before I got everyone outside to safety.” Hunter threw back his head and roared with laughter. “I remember you pulling that rabbit out of the pot and telling Warrior it was a perfect shot, right through the heart. Except, of course, that it was gutted. And would he practice on live targets from then on?” “Speaking of pits in plum pudding, do you remember your sister’s first attempt? Your grandfather broke off his only remaining tooth trying to eat it.” “And swallowed tooth, pit and all, so he wouldn’t embarrass her in front of Gray Horse, who had come to court her.” Hunter placed a hand over his aching midriff and sighed. “It is good I came, my father. You have the gift. Already my heart is lighter.

I swear this girl’s trying to test my patience.

I refused to admit it was because I was heading home alone instead of eating with Dante. I shut my eyes as I realized that even the thought of his name caused a shiver to run down my back. His voice startled me. “Do you not understand English, Little Bee? Or do you like to try to test my patience?” Again, that odd swell of relief flooded my chest. He was here. I opened my eyes and met his gaze. He was behind the wheel of the red SUV, his head tilted, a deep frown on his face. “I said I’d pick you up.” “I never agreed,” I responded and turned my back. I knew I was acting like my cat. If I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me either. But maybe he’d go away. I heard the sound of a door opening and measured footsteps. Then he was behind me. “I didn’t ask,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me as if I weighed nothing. I gasped in outrage as he swung around and took the few steps needed to place me in the vehicle. He carried me in much the same fashion as I used to carry my dolls. Legs hanging, pressed tight to my chest, not giving them the chance to fall. I couldn’t move until he deposited me in the seat. “You-you high-handed, cupcake-stealing…motherplucker!” “Motherplucker? Oh, you wound me,” he said with a laugh, leaning over me and snapping my seat belt closed. Our faces were so close, he could have kissed me. His gaze dropped to my lips, and then he met my eyes again. The intensity of his stare was overwhelming. He ran a finger down my cheek then tapped the end of my nose. “Extraordinary,” he whispered. He stepped back, shutting the door and, with a smirk, engaging the locks.

Whenever I enter a state of praising God through my poetry, I feel an extreme sense of confidence! I was excited to recite my newly written poem “P31 Gal” in the front yard today, while the delay in uploading it to streaming platforms tested my patience. To preserve my inner peace, I had to persevere. ~ LaTesha Monique

I’m sorry you lost the game.” His other hand joined the first, both now cupping my face. “Don’t you get it? I don’t care about the game.” “You don’t? But you love it.” “Baby, I love you more. You, and Charlie, Amelia, Jameson, and Beau. All five of you are my world. I choose you. Every time.” Testing the words on my tongue, I asked. “You choose me?” “I knew the first time I saw you that my world was forever changed. I remember thinking I would do just about anything to see your smile, hear your laugh. You were real when so much of my world was artificial. Back then, I only knew what you’d shared on the surface. But now that I know what’s underneath? I want all of you. I want to raise Charlie together with her older siblings. I want to be there for all of you every single day if you’ll let me. I want all of you forever.” “I’ve had some time these past few weeks to reflect on our relationship. Not only this past year, but the past ten years we’ve known each other. I used to curse the timing. That I’d met you too late, and it could have been me in your life if I had now been just a year or two earlier. I know now that I wasn’t enough for you back then. I was this eighteen-year-old-kid—yes, kid—who barely could take care of himself and had a one-track-mind focused on hockey. I wish I could erase all the pain you’ve suffered, but I needed that time to become the man you truly deserved. There was a reason I’d never dated seriously or entertained the idea of settling down. I was always waiting for you. It didn’t matter that you were unavailable. No one could compare to the standard for women you’d created in my mind. And then, one day, the universe rewarded my patience when a little boy threw his ball over my fence. Someone was looking out for me that day because you fell into my lap and gave me everything I’d always wanted but never thought I could have.

I’ve spent every day, sitting in the silence of your hate, for nearly two months. I’ve thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever encountered, while you tried to kill me with your eyes alone. For you, I’ve practiced a patience I’ve never been capable of possessing in my life. You’ve tested the limits of my tolerance so much that others who have done what you have, would have perished. I’ve manipulated and schemed to see that you remain safe, and mine. Tell me, what do you take from all that, Ruby?

If I live like a mountain, I will overcome temptations. I understand that temptations happen to test my patience, strength, and willingness to survive, become, and continue. I am aware that every time I overcome a temptation I am stronger than before. Dear temptation, knock on my rock as many times as you want and as much harder as you can, the result is you vanish and I continue stronger, so thank you God for your temptation.

All this long I could only able to make my soul rich with kindness, love, patience, empathy, wisdom, care, honesty, and sincerity.

I give you warning, do not test me, do not test my Patience, as I have told you before I do not have the patience for stupidity

Lost within, uncertain paths unfold, Each day a weight, a tale of burdens told. Striving to find solace, a challenging quest, In the struggle, life's yard, an unyielding test. Yet amid the shadows, a glimmer of hope, Fatigue battles, but the heart learns to cope. An arduous journey, the destination unclear, Yet a promise embraced, soothing every fear. So, I endure, guided by patience's light, Through the darkest night, sharing my plight. In the struggle's grip, where challenges leer, I find resilience, and strength crystal clear.

The Honeycomb is the only place near Atlanta that spawns iron hounds.” Derek’s voice was dangerously intimate. If he really hated someone, he would speak to them in that tone just before he killed them. “Now you’re here, cutting a cable leading into the Honeycomb. Is that a phone line?” I didn’t answer. “I’m waiting,” he prompted. “For what?” “A confirmation.” “Do you really need me to add anything? You’re doing well on your own.” His flat demeanor broke and frustration spilled forth. “Damn, you test my patience.

James 1:2–4 says: “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing” (NKJV). This is an amazing scripture because it tells us that, even in the midst of trials, if we will consider (think of) them as pure joy, they will produce patience in us. Amazingly, patience causes us to be people who lack nothing.

I had my patience tested. It was negative.

You thought I was silent whereas I was testing the limits of my patience. Words not spoken will echo till eternity.

Cliff?” Eleanor tried to appear innocent, but it was no easy task, as she could not wait to bait her brother now. He was at one of the two large desks in the library, both of which were at kitty-corner at the far end of the large room. Two vast red rugs covered the floors and bookcases lined two of the four walls. He seemed engrossed in paperwork and she had to come forward, a sheet of paper in her hand, calling his name again. He jerked, glancing up. Then he stood, smiling. “Eleanor! When did you return from Harrington Hall? How did it go?” She kept a perfectly innocent expression on her face. God, he deserved this! “Oh, fine. Mother is resting before supper—everyone is, actually. Can I have a word?” He scowled, coming out from behind the desk. “How is Amanda?” he demanded with vast impatience. “Was the call a success?” She simply smiled at him. “Do not test my patience now!” “You have no patience,” she cried. Then she smiled genuinely at him. “It was a very good idea to call on Blanche first. The call was a success. Amanda may not realize it, but she has a calm and grace, even when she is afraid. She did make one faux pas, but we all pretended not to notice and she realized her mistake. She can hold her own in society, Cliff—she is clever and, in truth, good at conversation.” He was smiling. “I am so pleased.

One of the gnostics was hungry and wept. Someone who had no tasting (dhawq) in that area censured him for that. The gnostic said, "But Allah makes me hungry so that I might weep. He tests me by affliction so that I might ask Him to remove it from me. This does not lessen my being patient." We know that patience is holding the self back from complaint to other- than-Allah.

Enough, you’re testing my patience now, and I’ve not got time to stand around debating the issue.

the bathroom down the hall, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, not knowing whom she’d run into and when. Indoor plumbing seemed unnecessary anyway. Getting water from the well and using the outdoor toilet was easy enough. But that shower, now that was a thing of beauty! She took the brush from the cabinet and let loose her single braid, as thick and long as the grasses that stood by the river back home. She shook her head so that her black hair fell loose, then brushed it, slowly and carefully, treating it as if every inch held a story. One stroke and then another, until it was smooth and silky, like the pajamas she slept in. They were different from the ones she wore at home, which she had made for herself. The stitching was too regular, too perfect to have been made by a young woman’s hand. Obviously, they were made by machine, like everything in Kabul. When Sunny had presented the room to her, she had been particularly proud of the full-length mirror that was framed in a shiny dark wood and sat on its own four legs. But Yazmina thought of it as vanity and had turned it away once Sunny had departed. Today, though, she turned it to face her. She put her hands on her stomach, where the life inside was growing with each new day, and looked at herself. She pulled the sleeping gown over her head, removed her undergarments, and there was her body, which she was seeing naked, in full, for the first time in her life. She was slim, her legs long and lean, her right leg still red and scraped from knee to thigh where she had fallen on the pebbled road when she was pushed out of the car. Her arms were slender but muscled from daily chores, still bruised by the rough grip of strong hands. She looked at her breasts, which were larger than usual because of her condition, but nothing like the long, low ones of Halajan, the old busybody who lived next door to the café and had an opinion about everything. Yazmina thought that woman had been sent by God himself to test her patience. No, Yazmina’s breasts were still “as glowing and round as the midnight moon,” as Najam used to tell her. She saddened at the memory of her husband’s face, his kisses and his touch. She would never feel such sweetness again. But she was with his baby. She turned to the side to look at her belly and stroked it with her two hands. She took a deep breath as if the air would give her all she and her baby needed to thrive. This will be my baby, she thought, my Najam, or if a girl, Inshallah, God willing, Najama (for Yazmina was convinced it was a girl, perhaps because it was Najam’s wish to have many children—a son or two, of course, but also a daughter who had the same light in her eyes as Yazmina). Not only would the baby be named after her father, but she would be a star lighting up the night sky, as the name meant. Najam’s seed was part of her, and she would cherish it and die trying to protect it.

TEST MY LEVEL OF PATIENCE TO KNOW YOUR LEVEL OF TOLERANCE, NATURE

I'm not marrying her," I hissed. "I won't. I love Roxy and I'm never going to be with anyone else." Father sighed heavily like I was testing his patience. "You will. Because every night that oaf isn't pregnant is another night your sweet Roxanya gets to spend like that." He pointed at the Atlas in my hands and I tossed it away from me in disgust so that it thumped down onto the table. "And if that's not motivation enough, then Vard has been hungering for more of a taste of her, so perhaps I'll start sending her to his bed as well.