Quotes About Routine

You can't start a diet in the middle of the week, that's just stupid.

This was his cure for low spirits. When you pour your first cup of coffee of the day, if you're feeling crummy, put a dab of ice cream into it. It's festive. Then you gotta trudge off like everybody else, like I said, but you got the ice cream with you. Forget art. Put your trust in ice cream.

Not that, this." She took her hands off the wheel and stretched out her arms, the car inching closer to oncoming traffic. "This town, these people, the same old shit every week. I'm done with it. All of it.

I was given the job of milking the cows, finally, and it got me up earlier than anybody. But it was kind of nice, pulling at those cows' tits.

Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show. The earth swarmed with them.

First we make our habits, then our habits make us.

There are those for whom life is a simple thing, an easy thing, an everyday thing; you write your letters, you "make love",you do "your business" and then you start again tomorrow with the same rules as yesterday, which is to avoid great savage joys as well as great sorrows

A car to pick me up every day, a chair with my name on it, everybody being very polite... what can you do except sit back and watch it all, try to take it all in?

I never could have done what I have done without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one subject at a time.

I never could have done what I have done, without the habits of punctuality, order, and diligence, without the determination to concentrate myself on one object at a time.

Boiled beef and greens constitute the day's variety on the former repast of boiled pork and greens; and Mrs. Bagnet serves out the meal in the same way, and seasons it with the best of temper: being that rare sort of old girl that she receives Good to her arms without a hint that it might be Better; and catches light from any little spot of darkness near her.

Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake very much; and shaving requires attention, even when you don't dance while you are at it. But if he had cut the end of his nose off, he would have put a piece of sticking-plaster over it, and been quite satisfied.

Anything to vary this detestable monotony.

Though there was nothing very airy about Miss Murdstone, she was a perfect Lark in point of getting up. She was up (and, as I believe to this hour, looking for that man) before anybody in the house was stirring. Peggotty gave it as her opinion that she even slept with one eye open; but I could not concur in this idea; for I tried it myself after hearing the suggestion thrown out, and found it couldn't be done.

Nothing seemed to be going on but the clocks, and they had such drowzy faces, such heavy lazy hands, and such cracked voices that they surely must have been too slow. The very dogs were all asleep, and the flies, drunk with moist sugar in the grocer's shop, forgot their wings and briskness, and baked to death in dusty corners of the window.

Mr. Gradgrind, apprised of his wife's decease, made an expedition from London, and buried her in a business-like manner. He then returned with promptitude to the national cinder-heap, and resumed his sifting for the odds and ends he wanted, and his throwing of the dust about into they eyes of other people who wanted other odds and ends - in fact, he resumed his parliamentary duties.

Little Dorrit was late on the Monday morning, for her father slept late, and afterwards there was his breakfast to prepare and his room to arrange. She had no engagement to go out to work, however, and therefore stayed with him until, with Maggy's help, she had put everything right about him, and had seen him off upon his morning walk (of twenty yards or so) to the coffee-house to read the paper.

As the city clocks struck nine on Monday morning, Mrs Clennam was wheeled by Jeremiah Flintwinch of the cut-down aspect to her tall cabinet. When she had unlocked and opened it, and had settled herself at its desk, Jeremiah withdrew—as it might be, to hang himself more effectually—and her son appeared.

Always the same with you people!

The boy who expects every morning to open into a new world finds that today is like yesterday, but he believes tomorrow will be different.

Les premiers travailleurs de l'aube n'étaient pas encore sortis de chez eux. Toutefois, on voyait luire les lumières matinales. Des hommes et des femmes se préparaient aux travaux quotidiens. Troupeau écrasé par une fatigue sans fin, ils allaient bientôt gagner les moyens de transport qui les emporteraient vers les usines. C'est ce qu'on appelle vivre.

Les drames les plus atroces résistent mal aux gestes familiers de la vie quotidienne.

E. W. Ansted hasn't forgot how to laugh and how to play. His is the heart that never grows old... You must get just enough play-spell mixed up in the work every day, so nothing becomes monotonous.

Though the circular round-and-round of routine be the bulk of life's affairs, make an occasional jutting diversion — of fun, love, or something that will outlast you — so that the shape and motion of your life shall resemble the lifegiving sun with bright rays shining forth from all directions.