Quotes About Routine

We ignore familiar patterns in ordinary contexts, so much so that we forget large portions of our days, which are spent doing routine things like brushing our teeth or getting dressed.

Good or bad, we are attracted to things that are familiar.

chair under the doorknob of her bedroom door and found some cans to put around the door. The next morning she tied those cans together and hung them from the door. And, every night for the rest of my days living with my grandmother, the cans were on the door and the chair was up under the knob. I would try to sleep while listening to make sure the cans didn't move.

Too Busy I've folded all my laundry and put it in the drawer. I've changed my linen, made my bed, and swept my bedroom floor. I've emptied out the garbage and fixed tomorrow's lunch. I've baked some cookies for dessert and given dad a munch. I've searched the house for pencils and sharpened every one. There are so many things to do when homework must be done.

If I were a first grader in one of the suburban schools, I would conclude that schools are geared toward two important things: lining up for lunch and putting the chairs on the desks at the end of the school day. These are the only two things that every teacher I observed adamantly insisted on. The child can only conclude that these tasks -- and not reading -- are terribly important. Everything else in the classroom is more or less laissez-faire.

You get up about 2-3 o'clock in the morning and get through about 7 or 8 and 12 hours later you start all over. That's the worst kind of work a person can do. You have to do these two shifts to get one day.

Abbott Now, on the St. Louis team we have Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know is on third. Costello That's what I want to find out.

Untuk menjadi penulis berhasil, menulislah setiap hari entah kau menginginkannya atau tidak.

Some places have religion. Here we have safety drills.

For, when Stubb dressed, instead of first putting his legs into his trowsers, he put his pipe into his mouth.

week days pent up in lath and

Oh! my friends, but this is man-killing! Yet this is life. For hardly have we mortals by long toilings extracted from this world's vast bulk its small but valuable sperm, and then, with weary patience, cleansed ourselves from its defilements, and learned to live here in clean tabernacles of the soul; hardly is this done, when--There she blows!--the ghost is spouted up, and away we sail to fight some other world, and go through young life's old routine again.

habit—strange thing! what cannot habit accomplish?

Yet habit - strange thing! what cannot habit accomplish?

experience nine times out of ten is merely stupidity hardened into habit.—Well

Here's my win, born out of the bumps and bruises of sibling conflict: If you have two kids, assign one even, the other odd. Then whenever there's a question of who gets the "advantage," it's decided by what day it is. Who gets their pick of car seat? Odd kid, because today's the third. Who gets the last hug at drop-off? Even kid, because today's the sixteenth.

Admittedly, the ride can be pleasant if you don't mind the rhythmic repetition of a never-ending Maypole dance. If I came home now, I'd hit the merry-go-round at one of the annual, frenzied peaks. And, like so many others, I could forget the existence of anything but the ride: sleep-walking through the low spots, and always looking toward the next peak.

like when I walk along a pavement in Porteneil and I accidentally scuff one heel on a paving stone. I have to scuff the other foot as well, with as near as possible the same weight, to feel good again.

This is so much like the old days. And, again, I have mixed feelings. In some ways it's good and comfortable to be fitting straight back in like I've never been away, but, on the other hand, I'm getting this constrictive feeling as well. It's the same places - like the bars and pubs on Friday night - the same people, the same conversations, the same arguments and the same attitudes. Five years away and not much seems to have changed. I can't decide if this is good or bad.

Breakfast was Bond's favourite meal of the day. When he was stationed in London it was always the same. It consisted of very strong coffee, from De Bry in New Oxford Street, brewed in an American Chemex, of which he drank two large cups, black and without sugar.

He continued to play like an automaton, never speaking except when he gave instructions in a low aside to the croupier at the opening of each new bank.

hugging each other at least three times a day: once before leaving for work, a second time when arriving home, and a third time before going to sleep. If you do nothing else, hug three times—but truly hug.

Most houses were crammed with immovable objects in their proper places, and each object told you what to do - here you ate, here you slept, here you sat. I tried to imagine carpets, wardrobes, pictures, chairs, a sewing machine, in these gaping, smashed-up rooms. I was pleased by how irrelevant, how puny such objects now appeared.

He was thinking of that time, the way one does on long journeys when rootlessness and boredom, lack of sleep or routine can summon from out of nowhere random stretches of the past, make them as real as a haunting. --Solar