A Quote by Scarlett Thomas

Routine kills creative thought. — © Scarlett Thomas
Routine kills creative thought.
One travels to run away from routine, that dreadful routine that kills all imagination and all our capacity for enthusiasm.
Man's destructive hand spares nothing that lives; he kills to feed himself, he kills to clothe himself, he kills to adorn himself, he kills to attack, he kills to defend himself, he kills to instruct himself, he kills to amuse himself, he kills for the sake of killing.
The routine is as much a part of the creative process as the lightening bold of inspiration, maybe more. And this routine is available to everyone.
It is not labor that kills, but the small attritions of daily routine that wear us down.
And to those who believe that adventures are i say try routine: it kills you far more quickly.
Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.
A lot of white-collar work requires less of the routine, rule-based, what we might call algorithmic set of capabilities, and more of the harder-to-outsource, harder-to-automate, non-routine, creative, juristic - as the scholars call it - abilities.
Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a good book, kills reason its self.
One kills a man, one is an assassin; one kills millions, one is a conqueror; one kills everybody, one is a god.
The man who kills a man kills a man. The man who kills himself kills all men. As far as he is concerned, he wipes out the world.
Our education system has succeeded so far in teaching generations to do different routine tasks. So when tractors displaced farming labor, we taught the next generation to work in factories. But what we've never really been good at is teaching a huge number of people to do non-routine creative work.
Spiritual worldliness kills! It kills the soul! It kills the Church!
Charm is the great English blight. It does not exist outside these damp islands. It spots and kills anything it touches. It kills love; it kills art; I greatly fear, my dear Charles, it has killed you.
It wasn't until I had been writing on and off for maybe ten years that I started to establish any kind of routine, thought I couldn't put a finger on an exact date, and this routine relates simply to the aphorism 'How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.'
We are asking a really fundamental question whether thought can ever be creative. If thought is not the ground of creation then what is creation? Is love the only factor that is creative?
And yet on the other hand unless warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book; who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image, but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye.
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