Quote by Juliette Binoche

For me, habit is just a synonym for death.


For me, habit is just a synonym for death.

Summary

This quote suggests that the concept of habit is uninteresting or limiting, ultimately leading to a mundane and monotonous existence resembling death. It implies that engaging in habitual behaviors, repeating the same actions and patterns routinely, stifles personal growth and prevents the discovery of new experiences and perspectives. The quote invites individuals to break free from the constraints of habit and embrace the unknown to truly live life to its fullest potential.

Topics

Death
By Juliette Binoche
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Random Quotations

Let us suppose, then, that we are dreaming, and that all these particulars--namely, the opening of the eyes, the motion of the head, the forth- putting of the hands--are merely illusions; and even that we really possess neither an entire body nor hands such as we see. Nevertheless it must be admitted at least that the objects which appear to us in sleep are, as it were, painted representations which could not have been formed unless in the likeness of realities; and, therefore, that those general objects, at all events, namely, eyes, a head, hands, and an entire body, are not simply imaginary, but really existent. For, in truth, painters themselves, even when they study to represent sirens and satyrs by forms the most fantastic and extraordinary, cannot bestow upon them natures absolutely new, but can only make a certain medley of the members of different animals; or if they chance to imagine something so novel that nothing at all similar has ever been seen before, and such as is, therefore, purely fictitious and absolutely false, it is at least certain that the colors of which this is composed are real. And on the same principle, although these general objects, viz. a body, eyes, a head, hands, and the like, be imaginary, we are nevertheless absolutely necessitated to admit the reality at least of some other objects still more simple and universal than these, of which, just as of certain real colors, all those images of things, whether true and real, or false and fantastic, that are found in our consciousness (cogitatio), are formed.

Rene Descartes, Meditation I