Quotes About Repetition

People usually told him the same joke two or three times.

A repetition is the re-enactment of past experience toward the end of isolating the time segment which has lapsed in order that it, the lapsed time, can be savored of itself and without the usual adulteration of events that clog time like peanuts in brittle.

Students are, if the truth be known, a bad lot. En masse they're as fickle as a mob, manipulable by any professor who'll stoop to it. They have, moreover, an infinite capacity for repeating dull truths and old lies with all the insistence of self-discovery. Nothing is drearier than the ideology of students, left or right.

Depression was, in some ways, a crisis of energy. I had heard her say that before; we were in reruns.

For the materialist historian, every epoch with which he occupies himself is only a fore-history of that which really concerns him. And that is precisely why the appearance of repetition doesn't exist for him in history; because the moments in the course of history which matter most to him become moments of the present through their index as fore-history, and change their characteristics according to the catastrophic or triumphant determination of that present.

Das Kunstwerk ist grundsätzlich immer reproduzierbar gewesen. Was Menschen gemacht hatten, das konnte immer von Menschen nachgemacht werden.

La Misma ola vagabunda que te lleva te devuelva.

Einstein had a mild form of echolalia, causing him to repeat phrases to himself, two or three times, especially if they amused him.

You know ... you keep doing the same things and you keep getting the same result over and over again.

Bloody Wolf Blitzer intoning that a weather bomb is going to detonate over America because the planet hates humans and time is a flat circle.

Have you lived 75 years, or have you lived one year 75 times?

Am I going to be in the same office doing the same thing? Am I going to live 90 years? Or am I going to live one year, 90 times, over and over again?

And you, dear reader, have you really lived 10,000 or more days or have you lived one day, 10,000 or more times? A good question to ask yourself as you work toward more spontaneity in your life.

have you really lived 10,000 or more days or have you lived one day, 10,000 or more times? A good question to ask yourself as you work toward more spontaneity in your life.

have you really lived 10,000 or more days or have you lived one day, 10,000 or more times?

I see that the life of this place is always emerging beyond expectation or prediction or typicality, that it is unique, given to the world minute by minute, only once, never to be repeated. And this is when I see that this life is a miracle, absolutely worth having, absolutely worth saving. We are alive within mystery, by miracle.

Simos said, "Grief work must be shared. In sharing, however, there must be no impatience, censure or boredom with the repetition, because repetition is necessary for catharsis and internalization and eventual unconscious acceptance of the reality of the loss. The bereaved are sensitive to the feelings of others and will not only refrain from revealing feelings to those they consider unequal to the burden of sharing the grief but may even try to comfort the helpers." (97)

To pile up honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable tedious sweetness.

What is this called, what I am doing, to myself, to my life, this wallowing, this pondering, this rolling over and over in the same places of my memory, wearing them thin, wearing them out? Why don't I ever learn? Why don't I ever do anything different?

All he ever knew of her was who he saw every day. All I am is who I am every day. All anyone is to anyone is a series of days.

For the past several years, I have gone to sleep every night in this same little pocket, the most uneventful piece of time I could find. Same exact thing every night, night after night. Total silence. Absolutely nothing. That's why I chose it. I know for a fact nothing bad can happen to me in here.

Your relationship having turned into a pantomime, a series of gestures in a well-worn scene, played out again and again, any underlying feeling having long since been obviated by emotional muscle memory, learning how to make the right faces, strike the right poses, not out of apathy or lack of sincerity, rather a need to preserve what was left of his pride.

emotional muscle memory,

There's never a new fashion but it's old.