Quotes About Routine

Maybe sheetrocking wasn't one of Sully's favorite jobs, but like most physical labor, there was a rhythm to it that you could find if you cared to look, and once you found this rhythm it'd get you through a morning. Rhythm was what Sully had counted on over the long years - that and the wisdom to understand that no job, no matter how thankless or stupid or backbreaking, could not be gotten through. The clock moved if you let it.

he had lived within the narrow grooves of habit so long that he had learned to see in his dark world without the aid of eyes

Life had made the plot over and over again, to the extent that I knew it by heart.

All I heard was the blood rushing through my ears, and the distant rumble and crackle of the Lake of Fire. (And Khufu scratching himself and grunting, but that was nothing new.)

Familiarity breeds complacency.

Repetition is the mother of character and skill.

The novelty of hospital visiting was being slowly replaced by the fatigue of hospital visiting.

She needed more time, there simply wasn't enough of it. This was the only way she could think of making it (setting her alarm five minutes earlier every day). Not making it exactly, if you could make it from scratch - brand new time- that would be fantastic.

She heard him moving about the room; every sound indicating impatience and irritation. Another time she would have gone in at his request. She would, through habit, have yielded to his desire; not with any sense of submission or obedience to his compelling wishes, but unthinkingly, as we walk, move, sit, stand, go through the daily treadmill of the life which has been portioned out to us.

Lo sentì agitarsi nella camera; ogni rumore indicava impazienza e irritazione. Una volta sarebbe rientrata, alla sua richiesta. Per abitudine, si sarebbe concessa al suo desiderio; non in senso di sottomissione o di obbedienza verso le sue richieste perentorie, ma senza pensarci, proprio come si cammina, ci si muove, ci si siede e ci si rialza, si sopporta insomma il tran tran quotidiano della vita che ci è stata assegnata.

Thank God for my hobgoblin, small-minded consistency...

THE DAYS PASSED. THE SUN ROSE and set and rose and set again and again. Sometimes the

hygienist. But

Church always seemed the same. Jess could tune it out the same way he tuned out school, with his body standing up and sitting down in unison with the rest of the congregation but his mind numb and floating, not really thinking or dreaming but at least free.

Well, I've never been to a church before. It would be a new experience for me." He went back to work. "You'd hate it." "Why?" "It's boring.

In February the weather sometimes gave us a vacation, in August, never. We just got up earlier every morning until finally we met ourselves going to bed.

The ordinary activities I find most compatible with contemplation are walking, baking bread, and doing laundry.

This, I am reminded, is why I love walking in the city, taking to the streets in pursuit of some spontaneous and near-arbitrary objective. If one knocks oneself out of one's routine—and in so doing knocks others gently out of theirs—then one can now and again create these momentary opportunities to be better than one is.

You spend so much time with someone, you find you get used to him.

When I got downstairs the next morning, Daniel was already up, sitting with Dad, looking over his shoulder as he monitored the fires. "So what's the latest word from the flaming frontier?" I asked as I poured myself an orange juice. "It's not flaming enough to cancel school," Dad said. "Damn.

out back where I do the wash

Can't believe they're running when they're not even late. This used to be a nice, lazy class.

Prefieren un régimen de inactividad y una

every day she would probably have