A Quote by Horace Mann

Habit is a cable; we weave a thread of it each day, and at last we cannot break it. — © Horace Mann
Habit is a cable; we weave a thread of it each day, and at last we cannot break it.
How shall I a habit break? As you did that habit make, As you gathered, you must lose; As you yielded, now refuse, Thread by thread the strands we twist Till they bind us neck and wrist, Thread by thread the patient hand Must untwine ere free we stan
Each day the memories weigh a little heavier. Each day they drag you down that bit further. You wind them around you, a single thread at a time, and you weave your own shroud, you build a cocoon, and in it madness grows.
Great blunders are often made, like large ropes, of a multitude of fibers. Take the cable thread by thread, take separately all the little determining motives, you break them one after another, and you say: that is all! Wind them and twist them together, they become an enormity.
I'll always stay connected with Apple. I hope that throughout my life I'll sort of have the thread of my life and the thread of Apple weave in and out of each other, like a tapestry. There may be a few years when I'm not there, but I'll always come back.
The beginning of a habit is like an invisible thread, but every time we repeat the act we strengthen the strand, add to it another filament, until it becomes a great cable and binds us irrevocably thought and act.
It takes a habit to break a habit. You can pray every day for a generous heart, but until you start acting in that direction, nothing's going to change.
Among the millions of nerve cells that clothe parts of the brain there runs a thread. It is the thread of time, the thread that has run through each succeeding wakeful hour of the individual.
Life is not a competition with others. In its truest sense it is a rivalry with ourselves. We should each day seek to break the record of our yesterday. We should seek each day to live stronger, better, truer lives; each day to master some weakness of yesterday; each day to repair past follies; each day to surpass...ourselves. And this is but progress.
Each thought is a nail that is driven In structures that cannot decay; And the mansion at last will be given To us as we build it each day.
Why would you let [the TV audiences] build a habit of going to the cable networks? So I think they've obviously smartened up now, and they're not giving the summer to cable anymore.
I think that when two people are able to weave that kind of invisible thread of understanding and sympathy between each other, that delicate web, they should not risk tearing it. It is too rare, and it lasts too short a time at best.
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.
Fall the deep curtains, delicate the weave, fair the thread.
Your twisting is done--you have the last thread of my heart. I wonder: when the thread grows slack, will you feel it?
Trust to God to weave your thread into the great web, though the pattern shows it not yet.
Destiny is thrifty. To weave her tapestry, she uses even the tiniest snips of thread.
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