Literary notes about Waiting (AI summary)
The term “waiting” in literature serves as a versatile device that captures both concrete anticipation and deeper metaphorical states. Authors often employ it to depict moments when characters pause—whether to meet someone important, as Otto awaits Beatrice [1] or a hospitable gentleman waits for his guest [2]—or to mirror broader themes of destiny and deferred action, such as the tension before a turning point in Dracula [3] or the quiet longings in Tom Sawyer [4]. In many instances, waiting underscores inner states of anxiety, hope, or resignation, as seen in the measured vigilance of armies and rulers in War and Peace [5][6] and the existential pause before fate intervenes in works by Dostoyevsky [7][8]. Thus, “waiting” becomes a thread that weaves together personal and universal experiences, highlighting the interplay between time, expectation, and the inevitability of change in narrative art.
- Beatrice reached Lindenberg Hole unopposed, where according to promise She found Otto waiting for her.
— from The Monk: A Romance by M. G. Lewis - ‘Why, where have you been?’ said the hospitable old gentleman; ‘I’ve been waiting for you all day.
— from The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens - —The time seemed terrible long whilst we were waiting for the coming of Godalming and Quincey Morris.
— from Dracula by Bram Stoker - Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck’s spirits like a mountain.
— from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Complete by Mark Twain - H2 anchor CHAPTER V Nicholas Rostóv meanwhile remained at his post, waiting for the wolf.
— from War and Peace by graf Leo Tolstoy - The domestic serfs were crowding in the hall, waiting to bid good-by to the young prince.
— from War and Peace by graf Leo Tolstoy - All this was done in an instant as he passed, and trying not to betray his interest, he walked on more slowly as though waiting for something.
— from Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky - Before you came in, I was lying here waiting, brooding, deciding my whole future life, and you can never know what was in my heart.
— from The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky