Quotes About Focus

It appears, then, that the approach to training

although the more specific the purpose, the better.

were distracted by something and lost train of your thought because you weren't in the present moment. Maybe you just couldn't think of anything interesting, funny, or entertaining to say.

If this happens, then the listeners' ears will shut off and they might start daydreaming about

sitting, lean forward because it will show that you're listening

In fact, the more each person can remove his or her ego from the discussion and focus on the subject matter, the more fruitful the conversation will be for all involved.

There will be times of fear and trembling. There will be times of discouragement and disillusionment. Have courage, smile, keep your chin up, laugh often, be kind to yourself, stay focused, be gracious and appreciative, think happy thoughts, and carry on regardless.

The way we consume information leads us to think less and less about more and more. We spend much of our time fixated on secondary questions (usually related to controversial and sensational issues) and very little time exploring the primary questions about our brief stay here on earth.

giant hard drive in my head, so I'm forced to obsess over it all like

There's that first few seconds, right when you wake up in the morning, when your head is absolutely clear. It's like a computer booting up—its screen perfectly clean and white—before the train wreck of your desktop clogs everything up with its disorganized jumble of crap.

I think what everyone should be doing, before it's too late, is committing themselves to what they really want to do with their lives.

Demanding immediate results is an aspect of unsteadiness of mind or laziness.

Our lives can only hold so much. If they're filled with one thing, they can't be filled with another. We ought to do a lot of thinking about what we want to fill them with.

Our lives can only hold so much. If they're filled with one thing, they can't be filled with another. We ought to do a lot of thinking about what we want to fill them with.

In our daily lives, where we're bombarded by the fake and the trivial, reading serves as a way to stop, shut out the noise of the world, and try to grab hold of something real, no matter how small.

Most martyr stories – sacred and profane – contain an element of superiority. This self-denying hero or heroine is rewarded, at the very least, by capturing the admiring focus of the narrative, while everyone else recedes into the background.

The sounds of silence are a dim recollection now, like mystery, privacy and paying attention to one thing — or one person — at a time.

Even though she had been warned, she tripped over the bike. She probably tripped because she'd been warned and was telling herself not to trip over the bike. She did that sometimes. It was often easier not to know what obstacles were in the way.

She couldn't take her eyes off the boxers. Mostly, she had a view of the back, but he turned halfway when he looked over. She commanded herself not to look at the front flap, which, of course, was exactly what she honed in on. He spit and put his mouth under the tap to get some water. All while just wearing underwear. All while she just stared at the crucial spot of the Action Pants.

Shock is a funny thing. Things get both sharp and fuzzy. Time stretches and distorts. Things come rushing into focus and seem larger than they are. Other things vanish to a single point.

That was something they taught you in anxiety therapy- the thoughts may come, but you don't have to chase them all. It was sort of the opposite of good detective work, in which you had to follow every lead.

Before I take you into the beating heart of the story, let's get one thing out of the way. I know from experience that when it comes up later, it will distract you so much that you won't be able to concentrate on anything else I will tell you. My name is Jubilee Dougal. Take a moment and let it sink in.

There was the thing about romantic feelings- the sensation was incredible, like a warm flood through every highway and byway of her body. Every good chemical she could produce turned up, like some bountiful harvest. But the feelings and chemicals blocked out everything else. They dulled logic and sense and focus. They made everything else seem irrelevant and time started to move jerkily too fast, then too slow

It was a good brain, but it had only two modes—fog and frenzy.