Routine is the death to heroism.

The vision fades, the soul sickens, and the routine of survival starts again.

Without wonder, men and women would lapse into deadening routine and little by little would become incapable of a life which is genuinely personal.

And then there was the routine, the mind-numbing routine. It was the castration of thought, the daily grind of an office worker who drooled at the clock, punched out, watched TV until sleep overtook him, slapped an alarm three times, did it again.

That which is repeated too often becomes insipid and tedious.

The routine dulls the terror.

Familiarity destroys reverence.

Time has a way of blunting the sharpest edge of determination.

"I abhour the dull routine of existence" - Sherlock Holmes

Habit and routine have an unbelievable power to waste and destroy.

When mundane, lowly activities are at stake, too much insight is detrimental—far-sightedness errs in immediate concerns.

What I had not foreseen Was the gradual day Weakening the will Leaking the brightness away

Otherwise, though, the ambitions they had carried with them to Hawaii had slowly drained away, until regularity — of schedules and pastimes ad the weather — became their principal consolation.

It should be remembered also that the outlook from the bottom is not so very bright or encouraging. It has a tendency to kill off ambition. We call it “getting into a rut,” which means that we accept our fate because we form the HABIT of daily routine, a habit that finally becomes so strong we cease to try to throw it off.