Comfort can be a dangerous thing. You stick around home all the time where it’s safe and nothing ever changes, and before you know it, you get set in your ways and you quit learning, you quit changing, you don’t grow anymore.
I have little feet because nothing grows in the shade.
From the place where we are right, flowers will not grow in the spring.
One who advances his name, destroys his name. One who does not increase, diminishes.
What is the cost of not daring? What is the cost of not trying?
Bit parts in Mediocre TV shows won't develop your acting chops.
Nothing ever grows in this rotting old hole.
Isolation is a blind alley....Nothing on the planet grows except by convergence.
To be wicked does not insure prosperity - for the inn did not succeed well.
The signature of mediocrity is not an unwillingness to change. The signature of mediocrity is inconsistency.
If we stay where we are, where we're stuck, where we're comfortable and safe, we die there... When nothing new can get in, that's death.
Years passed; and he endured the idleness of his intelligence and the inertia of his heart.
We have a lack of growth in Europe, in eurozone, and in France, and we are struggling hard to recover and restore this growth.
If we don't act at all (express our imaginings either in work or a changing personality, so that we can learn and think again something better) we certainly rot.
If the human being is condemned and restricted to perform the same functions over and over again, he will not even be a good ant, not to mention a good human being.
The worst curse to befall anyone is stagnation, a banal existence, the quiet desperation that comes out of a need for conformity.
Most people rust out due to lack of challenge. Few people rust out due to overuse.
Everything that Mr Smallweed's grandfather ever put away in his mind was a grub at first, and is a grub at last. In all his life he has never bred a single butterfly.
It's not easy for me to admit that I've been standing in the same place for 18 years.
We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.
The rolling stone never gathereth mosse.
