Quotes About Routine

We've got to practice three weeks, get the kinks out, then we've got to practice three weeks with the crew, and then go out for four months. It's just a huge chunk of time out of life.

The lessons taught me in this respect took such a hold upon me that at the present time, when I am at home, no matter how busy I am, I always make it a rule to read a chapter or a portion of a chapter in the morning, before beginning the work of the day.

Although it may happen that people who always repeat the same thing actually believe what they say, inevitably their speech will be perceived as insincere - presumably even by themselves, if they ever care to listen to themselves speak. In our culture, sincerity does not stand in opposition to lying, but in opposition to automatism and routine.

Perhaps the natural character of a man may be best seen before breakfast. The world is created anew for us every morning, and he is just then reissued, as it were, from the hands of nature, with all his original peculiarities fresh upon him.

Like most things that were good or bad for you, you reach a stage where what started as a happy habit turns into something of an obsession.

Also not surprising: He had fallen hard for Laszlo. He loved those walks, especially the one where he'd come through the door at the end of the day and Laszlo would greet him like a released POW on a tarmac—every day, without fail—and she'd drag him enthusiastically to the park as though she'd never been there before.

Myron showered and threw on a pair of sweats. His pants had blood on them. His own. He remembered that old Seinfeld routine about laundry detergent commercials that talk about getting out bloodstains, how if you have bloodstains on your clothes, maybe laundry wasn't your biggest worry. The

He stood on the stoop and watched them walk down the path. Corinne hit the minivan's remote, and the back yawned open like a giant mouth. Thomas tossed his bag into the back and took the front passenger seat. The mouth closed, swallowing the equipment whole. Corinne gave him a wave. He waved back. He

People have a habit of doing everyday things even under the oddest conditions.

Thereafter the summer passed in routine contentment. Routine contentment was: improving our treehouse that rested between giant twin chinaberry trees in the back yard, fussing, running through our list of dramas based on the works of Oliver Optic, Victor Appleton, and Edgar Rice Burroughs. (...) Thus we came to know Dill as a pocket Merlin, whose head teemed with eccentric plans, strange longings, and quaint fancies.

summer was the swiftness with which Dill would reach up and kiss me when Jem was not looking, the longing we sometimes felt each other feel. With him life was routine; without him life was unbearable.

Mr. Fred shook hands with her, said he was glad to see her, drew out a wet Coke from the machine, wiped it on his apron, and gave it to her. This is one good thing about life that never changes, she thought. As long as he lived, as long as she returned, Mr. Fred would be here with his...simple welcome. What was that? Alice? Brer Rabbit? It was Mole. Mole, when he returned from some long journey, desperately tired, had found the familiar waiting for him with its simple welcome.

With him, life was routine; without him, life was unbearable. I stayed miserable for two days.

living in the same house, married to the same woman, doing the same things in the same way until arthritis stiffened him, cataracts dimmed him, muscles failed and cancers ate him.

When, finally, I go into the office, I experience that weirdness I always get when I've been away any length of time. Weirded out by the normality. The way life without me seems to have been much the same as life with me, only presumably more peaceful and with slightly worse grammar.

You walk a path enough, you'll wear a groove in it. The groove gets too deep, metaphorically speaking, it becomes difficult to walk anywhere else. Maybe that path is the one you're meant to travel, and that's why the groove is there in the first place.

Being active every day makes it easier to hear that inner voice.

How many Sundays – how many hundreds of Sundays like this – lay ahead of me? "Quiet, peaceful and lonely," I said aloud to myself. On Sundays i didn't wind my spring.

People need routines. It's like a theme in music. But it also restricts your thoughts and actions and limits your freedom. It structures your priorities and in some cases distorts your logic.

it occurred to me what a simple thing reality is, how easy it is to make it work. It's just reality. Just housework. Just a home. Like running a simple machine. Once you learn to run it, it's just a matter of repetition. You push this button and pull that lever. You adjust a gauge, put on the lid, set the timer. The same thing, over and over.

I think certain types of processes don't allow for any variation. If you have to be part of that process, all you can do is transform—or perhaps distort—yourself through that persistent repetition, and make that process a part of your own personality.

If you want everything to be nice and straight all the time, then go live in a world made with a triungular ruler.

No matter how mundane some action might appear, keep at it long enough and it becomes a contemplative, even meditative act.

What do we talk about? Just ordinary things. What happened today, or books we've read, or tomorrow's weather, you know. Don't tell me you're wondering if people jump to their feet and shout stuff like 'It'll rain tomorrow if a polar bear eats the stars tonight!