Best 209 quotes in «routine quotes» category

A plan is not a routine that a man does every day; it is not even a time table

Another day. How long are you gonna scroll down? Semicolon Smile

Being a writer is determined more by writing than by having written.

BE SPONTANEOUS, NEVER BE AFRAID TO TRY NEW THINGS OR FIND NEW WAYS. DON'T LET OVERPLANNING AND ROUTINE POISON YOUR LIFE.

Be spontaneous! Never be afraid to try new things or find new ways! Don't let routine ruin your life!

As long as there is thirst in you, water can quench it; but you can live a kind of life in which you never feel thirsty; do not go in the sun, do no manual work, stay at home and relax and you will not feel the thirst. But then you will find no joy in drinking water. He who toils all day, enjoys the bliss of a good night’s rest. This is ironical: if you want to enjoy the pleasure of a good night’s sleep you have to work like a labourer all day. The trouble is that you want to spend your days like an emperor and your nights like a labourer.

At the W.M. Keck Observatory on the very high altitude summit of Mauna Kea, there was no routine monitoring of mental functioning, blood oxygen levels, blood pressure or heart rate of workers.

But the artist began to have misgivings as the wall underwent its transformation. Bigger than any pavement project he had yet undertaken, it made him restless. Over the years, a precise cycle had entered the rhythm of his life, the cycle of arrival, creation, and obliteration. Like sleeping, waking and stretching, or eating, digesting and excreting, the cycle sang in harmony with the blood in his veins and the breath in his lungs. He learned to disdain the overlong sojourn and the procrastinated departure, for they were the progenitors of complacent routine, to be shunned at all costs. The journey -- chanced, unplanned, solitary -- was the thing to relish. Now, however, his old way of life was being threatened. The agreeable neighborhood and the solidity of the long, black wall were reawakening in him the usual sources of human sorrow: a yearning for permanence, for roots, for something he could call his own....

Children with autism are constantly testing and pursuing truth. They are a bundle of contradictions. They love order and routine, yet often have the most amazingly inventive and creative minds. They may appear to follow rules, but are also the most likely people to come up with a revolutionary new idea. They feel emotion intensly, but often seem to struggle to read facial expressions.

Children would be more than a slight deviation from routine. Children would be the nuclear option where routine was concerned.

Conroy writes that, while part of him was following the basketball game from the bench, "the other part, an embassy of a completely sovereign nation, would fling its doors open to the most authentic part of me.

(Cont.. Página 46) O seu rosto negro, bonito, cintilava ali na minha frente. Fiquei boquiaberto, tentando pensar em alguma maneira de responder. Ficamos juntos, enlaçados daquela maneira durante alguns segundos; então o som da fábrica saltou num arranco, e alguma coisa começou a puxá-la para trás, afastando-a de mim. Um cordão em algum lugar que eu não via se havia prendido naquela saia vermelha florida e a puxava para trás. As unhas dela foram arranhando as minhas mãos e, tão logo ela desfez o contato comigo, seu rosto saiu novamente de foco, tornou-se suave e escorregadio como chocolate derretendo-se atrás daquela neblina de algodão que soprava. Ela riu e girou depressa, deixando que eu visse a perna amarela, quando a saia subiu. Lançou-me uma piscadela de olho por sobre o ombro enquanto corria para sua máquina, onde uma pilha de fibra deslizava da mesa para o chão; ela apanhou tudo e saiu correndo sem barulho pela fileira de máquinas para enfiar as fibra num funil de enchimento; depois, desapareceu no meu ângulo de visão virando num canto. (Página 47) "Todos aqueles fusos bobinando e rodando, e lançadeiras saltando por todo lado, e carretéis fustigando o ar com fios, paredes caiadas e máquinas cinza-aço e moças com saias floridas saltitando para a frente e para trás e a coisa toda tecida como uma tela, com linhas brancas corrediças que prendiam a fábrica, mantendo-a unida - aquilo tudo me marcou e de vez em quando alguma coisa na enfermaria o traz de volta à minha mente Sim. Isto é o que sei.. A enfermaria é uma fábrica da Liga. Serve para reparar os enganos cometidos nas vizinhanças, nas escolas e nas igrejas, isso é o que o hospital é. Quando um produto acaba, volta para a sociedade lá fora - todo reparado e bom como se fosse novo, às vezes melhor do que se fosse novo, traz alegria ao coração da Chefona; algo que entrou deformado, todo diferente, agora é um componente em funcionamento e bem-ajustado, um crédito para todo esquema e uma maravilha para ser observado. Observe-o se esgueirando pela terra com um sorriso, encaixando-se em alguma vizinhançazinha, onde estão escavando valas agora mesmo, por toda a rua, para colocar encanamento para a água da cidade. Ele está contente com isso. Ele finalmente está ajustado ao meio-ambiente...

Don't let your life goals fall victim to the allure of comfortable routines.

Everyone is driven by the need to fill their life with meaning. Sometimes this need is articulated clearly and then a purpose emerges and that leads to a sense of direction and a sense of mission. Most times it is not. So the void is filled with action. People have kids, gets mortgages, raise families, pay bills, go to work each day without asking why and then, some day, they die. Some times all this is enough. Many times it's not. Action fills the void nicely. Makes each day feel tiring. But without a sense of purpose. Without a sense of vision, it leads to a pattern of behavior that doesn't lead anywhere. Most times we die before we realize this of course.

Good tradecraft keeps espionage routine and boring.

Happy people do not wake up for breakfast.

I always like routine. I suppose I never found boredom very boring.

I choose the irrational from a rational position. I’m positioning myself on Undo, undo even undoing. Un-think, because routines dull the mind, and you don’t see what’s in front of you. Familiarity breeds contempt, and also lack of in-sight and out-sight.

I'd stay home through the blizzard and get some hard sleeping done. I'd return to my old rhythm, my daily rituals. I needed the stability of my familiar routine.

If spectacle is lacking in everyday life, it may be because we have forgotten where and how to look.

Dans vingt ans, vous serez plus déçus par les choses que vous n'avez pas faites que par celles que vous avez faites. Alors sortez des sentiers battus. Mettez les voiles. Explorez. Rêvez. Découvrez.

Even Damocles developed a routine.

Follow an exercise routine in which there is no routine. Whenever something becomes routine, you don't pay attention to it anymore. I rarely do the same routine twice which keeps me interested and focused.

Her routine was as predictable as the rotation of the earth.

His eagerness had turned into a routine; he embraced her at the same time every day. It was a habit like any other, a favourite pudding after the monotony of dinner.

Hygge is a phenomenon that reflects our way of inhabiting the world. The routines that shape our days locate us - from the places we visit to the small rituals that give us pause.

If a country is not governed well, all sort of disasters will become a routine of that country!

If there’s a single idea I emphasize when people ask about writing, it’s that there’s no right way to produce a book. But I do think that whatever you do, you should do regularly, whether it’s waking up at midnight and drinking vodka or waking up at dawn and drinking tea, whether it’s sitting in a monkish study or writing on the back of a flatbed truck. The analogy I like is children’s literature: in a lot of children’s books, there’s a huge institutional structure (Hogwarts, for example) whose presiding safety allows the children’s imagination to run free. The more consistent your habits are – and this ties into having your tools nailed down – the more secure your brain will be to run free and create.

I guess I forgot we were going out tonight." "We always go out on Fridays." "It's Thursday, Alvis." "You are so tied to routine.

I learned to find equal meaning in the repeated rituals of domestic life. Setting the table. Lighting the candles. Building the fire. Cooking. All those soufflés, all that crème caramel, all those daubes and albóndigas and gumbos. Clean sheets, stacks of clean towels, hurricane lamps for storms, enough water and food to see us through whatever geological event came our way. These fragments I have shored against my ruins, were the words that came to mind then. These fragments mattered to me. I believed in them. That I could find meaning in the intensely personal nature of life as a wife and mother did not seem inconsistent with finding meaning in the vast indifference of geology and the test shots.

I slide to my knees and say, "Please let this be over." Then, I'm not ready for it to be over.

I was also sick of my neighbors, as most Parisians are. I now knew every second of the morning routine of the family upstairs. At 7:00 am alarm goes off, boom, Madame gets out of bed, puts on her deep-sea divers’ boots, and stomps across my ceiling to megaphone the kids awake. The kids drop bags of cannonballs onto the floor, then, apparently dragging several sledgehammers each, stampede into the kitchen. They grab their chunks of baguette and go and sit in front of the TV, which is always showing a cartoon about people who do nothing but scream at each other and explode. Every minute, one of the kids cartwheels (while bouncing cannonballs) back into the kitchen for seconds, then returns (bringing with it a family of excitable kangaroos) to the TV. Meanwhile the toilet is flushed, on average, fifty times per drop of urine expelled. Finally, there is a ten-minute period of intensive yelling, and at 8:15 on the dot they all howl and crash their way out of the apartment to school.” (p.137)

In today's globalized world nothing is sure. Routines are falling; stereotypes are breaking. Life has never been as piquant as it is now. So go out of your way; leave your cocoon. Do that crazy thing and be happy you did it.

It has been written that so much of life is preparation, so much is routine, and so much is retrospect that the purest essence of anyone's genius contracts itself to a precious few hours.

Just as spring brings life to flowers and the moon moves tides on the shores, nothing is simply chance. Everything happens for a reason. Everything is a routine.

Love has the power to create an inviting space in the lives of people. But if daily routine kills dreamy or passionate thoughts, the constraint of the room may become oppressive and the emptiness unbearable. The room loses then its original fullness and turns into a place of nothingness. ( " Another empty room" )

Man was designed in a way in which he must eat in order to give him a solid reason to go to work everyday. This helps to keep him out of trouble. God is wise.

Maybe this is the way things are supposed to be but it doesn't feel right

Motivation 1.0 presumed that humans were biological creatures, struggling to obtain our basic needs for food, security and sex. Motivation 2.0 presumed that humans also responded to rewards and punishments. That worked fine for routine tasks but incompatible with how we organize what we do, how we think about what we do, and how we do what we do. We need an upgrade. Motivation 3.0, the upgrade we now need, presumes that humans also have a drive to learn, to create, and to better the world.

Neither the next day, nor the day after that, did M. Folantin's unhappiness dissipate; he simply let himself drift, incapable of resisting this crushing feeling of depression. Mechanically, under a rainy sky, he would make his way to his office; then he would leave it, eat, and go to bed at nine, only to resume the following day the exact same routine; little by little he slid into complete spiritual apathy.

it offends the continuum of human dignity to treat people like the appendage of highly efficient machines.

Motivation may be what starts you off, but it's habit that keeps you going back for more.

Nothing will sustain you more potently than the power to recognize in you humdrum routine, the true poetry of life - the poetry of the commonplace, of the ordinary person, of the plain, toilworn, with their loves and their joys, their sorrows and griefs.

On the way to Washington Square she thought to herself that some kid would probably fall off the slide and cut his lip. Later, in the park, Matt fell from the swing and cut his lip. Cassandra held a Kleenex to the cut, fought back her own tears. What's the matter with me? What more do I want? God, let me just see the good things. She forced herself to look around, out of herself, and, in fact, the cherry blossoms were in bloom.They had been coming out little by little, but it was that day they were lovely. Then, as if because she saw the trees, the fountain turned on. Look, Mama! Matt cried and began to run. All the children and their mothers ran to the sparkling fountain. The postman walked right by it as usual. He seemed not to notice that it was on, got wet by the spray. One/two. One/two.

(Página 45) "A enfermaria zumbe da maneira como ouvi uma fábrica de tecido zumbir uma vez, quando o time de futebol jogou com a escola secundária na Califórnia. Depois de uma boa temporada, s promotores da cidade estavam tão orgulhosos e exaltados que pagavam para que fôssemos de avião até a Califórnia para disputar um campeonato de escolas secundárias com o time de lá. Quando chegamos à cidade tivemos de visitar um indústria local qualquer. Nosso treinador era um daqueles dados a convencer as pessoas de que o atletismo era educativo por causa do aprendizado proporcionado pelas viagens, e em todas as viagens que fazíamos ele carregava com o time para visitar fábricas de laticínios, fazendas de plantação de beterraba e fábricas de conservas, antes do jogo . Na Califórnia foi uma fábrica de tecido. Quando entramos na fábrica, a maior parte do time deu uma olhada rápida e saiu para ir sentar-se no ônibus e jogar pôquer em cima das malas, mas eu fiquei lá dentro numa canto, fora do caminho das moças negras que corriam de um lado para o outro entre as fileiras de máquinas. A fábrica me colocou numa espécie de sonho, todos aqueles zumbidos e estalos a chocalhar de gente e de máquinas sacudindo-se em espasmos regulares. Foi por isso que eu fiquei quando todos os outros se foram, por isso e porque aquilo me lembrou de alguma forma os homens da tribo que haviam deixado a aldeia nos últimos dias para ir trabalhar na trituradora de pedras para a represa. O padrão frenético, os rostos hipnotizados pela rotina... eu queria ir com o time, mas não pude. Era de manhã, no princípio do inverno, e eu ainda usava a jaqueta que nos deram quando ganhamos o campeonato - uma jaqueta vermelha e verde com mangas de couro e um emblema com o formato de uma bola de futebol bordado nas costas, dizendo o que havíamos vencido - e ela estava fazendo com que uma porção de moças negras olhassem. Eu a tirei , mas elas continuaram olhando. Eu era muito maior naquela época. " (Página 46) "Uma das moças afastou-se de sua máquina e olhou para um lado e para o outro das passagens entre as máquinas, para ver se o capataz estava por perto, depois veio até onde eu estava. Perguntou se íamos jogar na escola secundária naquela noite e me disse que tinha um irmão que jogava como zagueiro para eles. Falamos um pouco a respeito do futebol e coisas assim, e reparei como o rosto dela parecia indistinto, como se houvesse uma névoa entre nós dois. Era a lanugem de algodão pairando no ar. Falei-lhe a respeito da lanugem. Ela revirou os olhos e cobriu a boca com a mão, para rir, quando eu lhe disse como era parecido com o olhar o seu rosto numa manhã enevoada de caça ao pato. E ela disse : " Agora me diga para que é que você quereria nesse bendito mundo estar sozinho comigo lá fora, numa tocaia de pato ?" Disse-lhe que ela poderia tomar de conta da minha arma, e as moças começaram a rir com a boca escondida atrás das mãos na fábrica inteira. Eu também ri um pouco, vendo como havia parecido inteligente. Anda estávamos conversando e rindo quando ela agarrou meus pulsos e os apertou com as mãos. Os traços do seu rosto de repente se acentuaram num foco radioso; vi que ela estava aterrorizada por alguma coisa. - Leve-me - disse ela num murmúrio - Leve-me mesmo garotão. Para fora desta fábrica aqui, para fora desta cidade, para fora desta vida. Me leva para uma tocaia de pato qualquer, num lugar qualquer . Num outro lugar qualquer. Hem garotão, hem ?

People just don't seem to get me. Don't understand that I need my space. Always telling me what to do. They think rules and routines and clean hands and your p's and q's will make everything all right. They haven't got a clue.

Quand tous les jours sont ainsi semblables les uns aux autres, c'est que les gens ont cessé de s'apercevoir des bonnes choses qui se présentent dans leur vie tant que le soleil traverse le ciel.

She was too well-trained to panic.

Stop walking through the motions of a conditioned routine and start consciously taking action on your visualized intent.

Terror came. I would fall into a slumber of days, and getting up would go on with the same sad dreams. I was ripe for death and along a road of perils my weakness led me to the confines of the world and of Cimmeria, home of whirlwinds and of darkness. - Delirium II - Alchemy of the Word