Honore de Balzac Quotes

Everything becomes too normal after a while.

Marriage must perforce fight against the all-devouring monster of habit.

Everything was leveled, there were no extremes of joy or sorrow any more but only habit, routine, ancient family names and rites and customs, slow careful old people moving cautiously around furniture that had sat in the same positions for fifty years.

I could keep trying to do the same kind of comedies. You know how it's going to go, and you can get an audience with it, but then I feel like a hamster on a wheel.

You have to look out for becoming trapped in a place where people want to see you all the time doing one thing.

The tendency is to keep doing things the way you have done them.

Everybody is doing the same old thing.

For me, habit is just a synonym for death.

Running through things because you are familiar with them, breeds routine and this is the seed of boredom.

Habit is a great deadener.

Normality is death.

If you do anything for too long, it starts to lack edge, to become too easy. Easy is the kiss of death.

Sometimes when you're with the same old people, you get the same old thing.

Nothing is more uninteresting than completely knowing somebody, being totally at ease.

People are so caught in a routine, doing the same things over and over.

When you do anything for eight or nine years, you start getting a little comfortable; you start taking things for granted.

I've been here for 19 years, so West Ham fans are bored with seeing me. It's like my wife, who changes the wallpaper every three years because she gets tired of it.

We live and work in boxes. People don't even notice that.

When she is older she will see in these resemblances a regrettable uniformity among individuals (they all stop at the same spots to kiss, have the same tastes in clothing, flatter a woman with the same metaphor) and a tedious monotony among events (they are all just an endless repetition of the same one); but in her adolescence she welcomes these coincidences as miraculous and she is avid to decipher their meanings.

If I had a choice, if I had understood earlier that the reason my days were all the same was because I wanted them like that, perhaps.

The other producer of old age is habit: the deathly process of doing the same thing in the same way at the same hour day after day, first from carelessness, then from inclination, at last from cowardice or inertia. Luckily the inconsequent life is not the only alternative; for caprice is as ruinous as routine. Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut, that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive.

Habituation puts to sleep the eye of our judgment.

When you do not change up a lot, people may know you a lot better than they should.

We always know which is the best road to follow, but we follow only the road that we have become accustomed to.

habit, a particularly insidious thug who chokes passion and smothers love. Habit puts us on autopilot.