Quotes About Routine

One is only really inwardly comfortable, so to speak, after one's life has assumed some sort of shape. Not just a routine, like studying or a job or being a housewife, but something more complete than all those, which would include goals set by oneself and a circle of life-time type friends. I think this is one of the hardest things to achieve, in fact often just trying doesn't achieve it but rather it seems to develop almost by accident.

The kids are asleep, and my husband is reading in the other room. So, it's just you and me. Every night after we put our children to bed, I come down here to the study to write. It's cold here in Los Angeles, so bedtimes have been creeping later. My daughter Maxwell is six now and my son Ace is five, and they have the kind of energy that

Come potrebbe un uomo prigioniero nella ragnatela della routine ricordarsi che è un uomo, un individuo ben distinto, uno al quale è concessa un'unica occasione di vivere, con speranze e delusioni, dolori e timori, col desiderio di amare e il terrore della solitudine e del nulla?

Desde el nacimiento hasta la muerte, de lunes a lunes, de la mañana a la noche: todas las actividades están rutinizadas y prefabricadas. ¿Cómo puede un hombre preso en esa red de actividades rutinarias recordar que es un hombre, un individuo único, al que sólo le ha sido otorgada una única oportunidad de vivir, con esperanzas y desilusiones, con dolor y temor, con el anhelo de amar y el miedo a la nada y a la separatidad?

From birth to death, from Monday to Monday, from morning to evening—all activities are routinized, and prefabricated. How should a man caught in this net of routine not forget that he is a man, a unique individual, one who is given only this one chance of living, with hopes and disappointments, with sorrow and fear, with the longing for love and the dread of the nothing and of separateness?

Union by conformity is not intense and violent; it is calm, dictated by routine, and for this very reason often is insufficient to pacify the anxiety of separateness.

Cans. We don't have to think anymore. Everything is premeditated, pre-chewed, pre-felt. Cans. All you have to do is open them. Delivered to your home three times a day. Nothing any more to cultivate yourself, or let grow and boil on the fire of questions, of doubt, and of desire. Cans.

Dem Soldaten ist sein Magen und seine Verdauung ein vertrauteres Gebiet als jedem anderen Menschen

ALREADY KNOW the camp on the moors. It was here that Himmelstoss gave Tjaden his education. But now I know hardly anyone here; as ever, all is altered. There are only a few people that I have occasionally met before. I go through the routine mechanically. In the evenings I generally

Nichts elender, als Paare zu sehen, über denen die Müdigkeit der Gewohnheit liegt. Verstaubte Liebe; der Küchengarten der Gefühle.

Habit is the explanation of why we seem to forget things so quickly.

we were being trained to be heroes the way they train circus horses, and we quickly got used to it.

That's one trouble about the raids. . . People do nothing but make tea and expect you to drink it.

One of the secrets of a happy marriage is never to speak to or see the loved one before noon.

One of the secrets of a happy marriage is never to speak to or see the loved one before noon." Churchill had a formula for family size as well. Four children was the ideal number: "One to reproduce your wife, one to reproduce yourself, one for the increase in population, and one in case of accident.

Married men get so they make a routine even of keeping a mistress

Housework is a treadmill from futility to oblivion with stop-offs at tedium and counter productivity.

The thirty-minute nap. When I heard a key in the door, I'd jump up, throw cold water on my face, smooth my clothes, pull the bedspread taut, stagger into the kitchen, and throw an onion in the oven. When my husband mentioned the chenille marks on my face, I'd lie and say, "It's bad skin.

Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?

Age is my alarm clock," the old man said. "Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?

The blue-backed notebooks, the two pencils and the pencil sharpener (a pocket knife was too wasteful) the marble-topped tables, the smell of early morning, sweeping out and mopping, and luck were all you needed. For luck you carried a horse chestnut and a rabbit's foot in your right pocket. The fur had been worn off the rabbit's foot long ago and the bones and the sinews were polished by wear. The claws scratched in the lining of your pocket and you knew your luck was still there.

Good night then. I will wake you in the morning." "You're my alarm clock," the boy said. "Age is my alarm clock," the old man said. "Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?" "I don't know," the boy said. "All I know is that young boys sleep late and hard." "I can remember it," the old man said. "I'll waken you in time.

The old man drank his coffee slowly. It was all he would have all day and he knew that he should take it. For a long time now eating had bored him and he never carried a lunch.

But they went through this fiction every day.