The worry and hope of waiting
Querying is, I imagine, a lot like fishing with a makeshift rod on a deserted island. All the joy of an activity you might otherwise have enjoyed is lost in the desperate need for a bite on the end of the line.
Don't get me wrong, as I always tell my art students when faced with anxiety or doubt over a particular piece of work, it is a privilege for aesthetic or creative problems to be the biggest cause of stress, so suck it up sunshine. The majority of the human race living or dead spend their lives trying to keep their family fed and warm, and here I am worried about whether an agent in NY likes a book I wrote for other middle class males.
Even a starving fisherman is better off than the crab about to be eaten, but all these things mean little when you check your carefully programed cross-referenced gmail-filtered inbox-folders and "agent query" is empty.