A Quote by W. Edwards Deming

It does not happen all at once. There is no instant pudding. — © W. Edwards Deming
It does not happen all at once. There is no instant pudding.
Success does not happen all at once. In life, there is no instant pudding.
There sure are a lot of these 'instant' products on the market. Instant coffee, instant tea, instant pudding, instant cereal... instant dislike.
We have instant pudding, instant photos, instant coffee—but there are no instant adults.
The man who invented instant pudding was moved to action by an inability to wait for pudding.
What is an "instant" death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.
I'm a miracle man, things happen which I don't plan, I've never planned anything. Whatsoever I do, I want it to be an instant action object, instant reaction subject. Instant input, instant output.
The authority of example and considerations of character, unlike pudding, are not whipped up in an instant.
"I feel like, like pudding," Iggy groaned. "Pudding with nerve endings. Pudding in great pain."
In our instant pudding world, everything is sweet, smooth, very convenient and fast. There are lots of assorted flavors, but they're all artificial.
When you stir your rice pudding, Septimus, the spoonful of jam spreads itself round making red trails like the picture of a meteor in my astronomical atlas. But if you stir backwards, the jam will not come together again. Indeed, the pudding does not notice and continues to turn pink just as before. Do you think this is odd?
For most people, spiritual awakening is a gradual process. Rarely does it happen all at once. When it does, though, it is usually brought about by intense suffering.
Of all the meals that represented British culture, perhaps none captured the imagination more than the Christmas pudding. It was the Victorians who firmly fixed the traditional plum pudding as a festive dish.
The first bowl of chocolate pudding was too hot, but Goldilocks ate it all anyway because, hey, it's chocolate pudding, right?
I've been working hard on a new song, it's titled "Frozen Piggy Pudding". It's about how the government is full of pigs who eat pudding all day. Oh look a frisbee, allo' govna.
It's not preppies, cause I'm a preppie myself. I just don't like homosexuals. If you ask me, they're all homosexuals in the Pudding. Hey, I was glad when that Pudding homosexual got killed in Philadelphia.
Some beliefs may be subject to such instant, brutal and unambiguous rejection. For example: no left-coiling periwinkle has ever been found among millions of snails examined. If I happen to find one during my walk on Nobska beach tomorrow morning, a century of well nurtured negative evidence will collapse in an instant.
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