The further off from England the nearer is to France-_x000D_ _x000D_ Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Lewis CarrollRead
The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.
Interpretation
Rushing leads to feeling more overwhelmed and less productive.
This quote suggests that the more one tries to hurry through tasks, the more they ultimately fall behind. It highlights the irony in trying to achieve efficiency through speed, implying that a frantic pace can lead to mistakes and a lack of progress, thereby emphasizing the need for a more balanced approach to tasks and life in general.
In practice
This quote could be used in a time management workshop to encourage people to slow down and plan effectively.
The further off from England the nearer is to France-_x000D_ _x000D_ Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said 'I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head. Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be, Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me.
So she was considering in her own mind...whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up & picking the daisies.
Once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people.
Rule Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.
Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), `you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.' And what does IT live on?' Weak tea with cream in it.' A new difficulty came into Alice's head. `Supposing it couldn't find any?' she suggested. Then it would die, of course.' But that must happen very often,' Alice remarked thoughtfully. It always happens,' said the Gnat.
Rapidly, merrily, Life's sunny hours flit by, Gratefully, cheerily Enjoy them as they fly!
There won't be any biographies of me because, for only one reason, lives spent between the house and the chicken yard do not make exciting copy.
Getting old is not a matter of age; it's a lack of #β movement . And the ultimate lack of movement is death.
I'd spend every summer in Longview on my grandfather's farm. It was a tiny little town divided by a river, which was the segregation line: that side white, this side black. And meanwhile, I lived in Compton - basically, another whole world sealed into 10 square blocks. It's interesting how insular an environment can be.
My bones are ringing the way sometimes people say their ears are ringing, I'm so tired.
A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.
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