Julio Cortazar Quotes

I feel monotony and death to be almost the same.

Habit is a great deadener.

We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.

We are on Sunday night because that is where they put us 30-odd years ago. I think we became a habit.

For me, habit is just a synonym for death.

When we get in a routine we can become zombie-like and shut down.

Some people die at 25 and aren't buried until 75.

He not busy being born is busy dying.

Beware of monotony; it's the mother of all the deadly sins.

Long, continuous periods of peace and prosperity have always brought about the physical, mental and moral deterioration of the individual.

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

In success there's a tendency to keep on doing what you were doing.

Nobody has ever thought himself to death. The chief danger confronting us is not age. It is laziness, sloth, routine, stupidity, - forcing their way in like wind through the shutters, seeping into the cellar like swamp water.

Sometimes, the hardest habit to break is the habit of doing nothing beyond the necessary.

Men set themselves a goal, and having attained it, are satisfied and grow paunches. In their complacency they forget that their only future is now death.

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

Effort ceases. Time flaps on the mast. There we stop; there we stand. Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame

Men fall into a routine when they are tired and slack: it has all the appearance of activity with few of its burdens.

So fixed are our spirits in slothfulness and cold indifference that we seldom overcome so much as one evil habit.

the most dangerous temptations are not due to the active, sudden flames of desire, 'the lusts of the flesh,' but to the disinclinations of the flesh, its indolence and sluggishness, our tendency to become creatures 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.

The moment love is equated with happiness, it is satisfied — and is no longer love. The satisfied, the happy ones, do not love; they fall asleep in habit, near neighbor to annihilation.

There’s something about it that makes other good habits easier.

When people refuse to speak out for too long, it's like water that's stagnant and starts to rot!

if you stay still, earth buries you, ready or not.