Keep Yourself Occupied Quotes

Perhaps I'm old and tired, but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

The chances of finding out what’s really going on in the universe are so remote, the only thing to do is hang the sense of it and keep yourself occupied.

The chances of finding out what's really going on in the universe are so remote, the only thing to do his hang the sense of it and keep yourself occupied.

Perhaps I’m old and tired,” he continued, “but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

Don't give in, Alex, don't let them win. You beat them once and you can do it again. Don't let this place break you. Keep your mind busy, keep yourself occupied, find things to do. If you're doing things, then you still exist, right?

All through my life I've had this strange unaccountable feeling that something was going on in the world, something big, even sinister, and no one would tell me what it was." "No," said the old man, "that's just perfectly normal paranoia. Everyone in the Universe has that." "Everyone?" said Arthur. "Well, if everyone has that perhaps it means something! Perhaps somewhere outside the Universe we know..." "Maybe. Who cares?" said Slartibartfast before Arthur got too excited. "Perhaps I'm old and tired," he continued, "but I always think that the chances of finding what out really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

Keep your mind busy, keep yourself occupied, find things to do. If you're doing things, then you still exist, right?

always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

Perhaps I’m old and tired,’ he continued, ‘but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

You know,” said Arthur thoughtfully, “all this explains a lot of things. All through my life I’ve had this strange unaccountable feeling that something was going on in the world, something big, even sinister, and no one would tell me what it was.” “No,” said the old man, “that’s just perfectly normal paranoia. Everyone in the Universe has that.” “Everyone?” said Arthur. “Well, if everyone has that perhaps it means something! Perhaps somewhere outside the Universe we know …” “Maybe. Who cares?” said Slartibartfast before Arthur got too excited. “Perhaps I’m old and tired,” he continued, “but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

The chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied.

Gradually the awful truth dawns on you: that Santa Claus was just the tip of the iceberg – that your future will not be the rollercoaster ride you’d imagined, that the world occupied by your parents, the world of washing the dishes, going to the dentist, weekend trips to the DIY superstore to buy floor-tiles, is actually largely what people mean when they speak of ‘life’. Now, with every day that passes, another door seems to close, the one marked PROFESSIONAL STUNTMAN, or FIGHT EVIL ROBOT, until as the weeks go by and the doors – GET BITTEN BY SNAKE, SAVE WORLD FROM ASTEROID, DISMANTLE BOMB WITH SECONDS TO SPARE – keep closing, you begin to hear the sound as a good thing, and start closing some yourself, even ones that didn’t necessarily need to be closed. (from "Skippy Dies")

I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied. Look at me: I design coastlines. I got an award for Norway.

but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied. Look at me: I design coastlines. I got an award for Norway.

Maybe. Who cares?” said Slartibartfast before Arthur got too excited. “Perhaps I’m old and tired,” he continued, “but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied. Look at me: I design coastlines. I got an award for Norway

JANUARY 30 WORSHIP ME ONLY. Whatever occupies your mind the most becomes your god. Worries, if indulged, develop into idols. Anxiety gains a life of its own, parasitically infesting your mind. Break free from this bondage by affirming your trust in Me and refreshing yourself in My Presence. What goes on in your mind is invisible, undetectable to other people. But I read your thoughts continually, searching for evidence of trust in Me. I rejoice when your mind turns toward Me. Guard your thoughts diligently; good thought-choices will keep you close to Me. PSALM 112:7; 1 CORINTHIANS 13:11

You know, you spend your childhood watching TV, assuming that at some point in the future everything you see there will one day happen to you: that you too will win a Formula One race, hop a train, foil a group of terrorists, tell someone 'Give me the gun', etc. Then you start secondary school, and suddenly everyone's asking you about your career plans and your long-term goals, and by goals they don't mean the kind you are planning to score in the FA Cup. Gradually the awful truth dawns on you: that Santa Claus was just the tip of the iceberg — that your future will not be the rollercoaster ride you'd imagined, that the world occupied by your parents, the world of washing the dishes, going to the dentist, weekend trips to the DIY superstore to buy floor-tiles, is actually largely what people mean when they speak of 'life'. Now, with every day that passes, another door seems to close, the one marked PROFESSIONAL STUNTMAN, or FIGHT EVIL ROBOT, until as the weeks go by and the doors — GET BITTEN BY SNAKE, SAVE WORLD FROM ASTEROID, DISMANTLE BOMB WITH SECONDS TO SPARE — keep closing, you begin to hear the sound as a good thing, and start closing some yourself, even ones that didn't necessarily need to be closed.

We are so busy, so occupied with many little things, that we are blind to the one great thing. Only in the pauses between things, in the brief contemplative spaces of just being, can we catch a glimpse of love itself. Even then, we often feel so unfree that we think we are unworthy of love. But the glimpses keep coming. In the momentary emptiness when an addictive need is not yet satisfied, in encountering a situation in which we do not know what to do, in finding ourselves giving or receiving a touch of tenderness for no reason at all, in the spontaneous eruption of laughter, another small space opens. The invitation is given again. Time and time again we ignore the invitations and fill the spaces immediately, dulling our consciousness with drivenness. But love continues, hoping to catch us in a willing moment. Thousands of little spaces come each day. They exist between each choice we make and the next, after each thought is completed and before the next begins, between each breath and the next, in every hunger or wanting, whenever something wakes us up to presence. Now and then, through some mysterious interweaving of divine grace and human willingness, we see what is in the space and do not run away. We become aware of our hearts’ response and are given the most wonderful experience of freedom . . .

What about Sandridge?" McKenna asked. "Do you love him?" "Yes," Aline whispered. She loved Adam dearly- just not in the way he meant. "And yet you're here with me," he murmured. "Adam-" She stopped and cleared her throat. "Whatever I choose to do... he doesn't mind. This has nothing to do with him... you and I..." "No, it doesn't," he said with sudden anger. "My God, he should be trying to tear my throat out, instead of letting you go somewhere alone with me. He should be willing to do anything short of murder- hell, I wouldn't even stop at that- to keep other men away from you." Disgust thickened his voice. "You're lying to yourself, if you think that you'll ever be satisfied with the kind of bloodless arrangement your parents had. You need a man who will match your will, own you, occupy every part of your body, and every corner of your soul. In the eyes of the world, Sandridge is your equal- but you and I know better. He's as different from you as ice from fire." He leaned over her, his body forming a hard, living cage around her. "I'm your equal," he said harshly, "though my blood is red instead of blue, though I was condemned by my very birth never to have you... inside, we're the same. And I would break every law of God and man if-" McKenna stopped suddenly, biting back the words as he realized that he was revealing too much, allowing his rampaging emotions to get the better of him.

Look for another bed if yours is occupied. I don't want the miserable little bit of your life. You're just not enough for me, my boy. First, you have to live. Kick ass, and let yourself be ass-kicked. One day, when you're totally drunk, up to the top, when you're paralyzed, struggling to move and lying in the mud, then we can talk again. But for now, get real, ok? And now your clear the premises, my darling boy. Your little handful of life is not fucking enough. Keep it. I don't want it.

When I look back on that time now, I think of it as a hard-earned lesson about the importance of tenacity and perseverance, but also about the need to steer clear of anger and anxiety over things you can’t control. I can’t overstate how important it is to keep blows to the ego, real as they often are, from occupying too big a place in your mind and sapping too much of your energy. It’s easy to be optimistic when everyone is telling you you’re great. It’s much harder, and much more necessary, when your sense of yourself is being challenged, and in such a public way.

The Unravel process is like cleaning out that garage. Before I could park a car in that space, I had to go through everything that was occupying that area and separate out what needed to be kept and what needed to be thrown out. I had to pick up the garden hose and see if it was still usable. I had to go through every box and investigate what was in it. I had to go through all the miscellaneous stuff and decide if I needed it, if it could be donated, or if it should be thrown out. I asked myself why I was keeping some of the things I had piled up. I realized that some of it was being kept out of a sense of loyalty or sentimentality, and some of it was being kept because I was afraid that I might need it and wouldn’t have it.

He could not look at her, be near her, think of her, and keep the Kestrel afloat at the same time. No red-blooded man could. “Go back to your cabin.” “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll go mad if I spend another day in that cabin, with no one to talk to and nothing to do.” “Well, I’m sorry we’re not entertaining you sufficiently, but this isn’t a pleasure cruise. Find some other way to amuse yourself. Can’t you find something to occupy your mind?” he made an open-handed sweep through the steam. “Read a book.” “I’ve only got one book. I’ve already read it.” “Don’t tell me it’s the Bible.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “It isn’t.” He averted his gaze to the ceiling, blowing out an impatient breath. “Only one book,” he muttered. “What sort of lady makes an ocean crossing with only one book?” “Not a governess.” Her voice held a challenge. Gray refused the bait, electing for silence. Silence was all he could manage, with this anger slicing through him. It hurt. He kept his eyes trained on a cracked board above her head, working to keep his expression blank. What a fool he’d been, to believe her. To believe that something essential in him had changed, that he could find more than fleeting pleasure with a woman. That this perfect, delicate blossom of a lady, who knew all his deeds and misdeeds, would offer herself to him without hesitation. Deep inside, in some uncharted territory of his soul, he’d built a world on that moment when she came to him willingly, trustingly. Giving not just her body, but her heart. Ha. She hadn’t even given him her name.

I hate like hell to go, especially with things still so up in the air between us.” Liv was watching him from the bed. “Nothing’s up in the air. You’re determined to keep me and I’m determined to go.” His face darkened. “You’re not so damn determined when I have you in the bathing pool.” Liv felt a heated blush creep into her cheeks but she refused to back down. “Be that as it may, what I say or do in the, uh, in the heat of passion doesn’t change how I feel.” A look that was almost despair crossed over his chiseled features. “Damn it, Olivia, can’t you admit to yourself that you feel for me what I feel for you? Can’t you just try to imagine having a life here with me on the ship?” “I could…if I didn’t already have a life waiting for me back on Earth.” She sighed. “Look, let’s not fight about this right now. You have to go, fine. I’ll manage okay on my own here.” To be honest she was looking forward to a reprieve from the constant lust she felt while being cooped up with him in close quarters. He frowned. “I shouldn’t be leavin’ you alone during our claiming period. If I hadn’t had a direct order from my CO—” “It’s okay, really. I’ll find something to keep me occupied. I’ll try the translator and read one of your books. And I can work the wave well enough to make my own lunch without burning a finger off now.” “All right, fine.” He looked slightly mollified. “But whatever you do, stay in the suite. Don’t leave for any reason.” “Yes, sir!” She gave him a mocking salute. “To hear is to obey, oh my lord and master.” “Lilenta…” He sighed. “This is for your safety. I’m not trying to order you around for the hell of it.” “No, you just want to make my decisions for me. Stay here, don’t go there. Live the rest of your life on the ship instead of ever seeing your loved ones on Earth again. Why should this be any different?” Liv knew an edge of bitterness had crept into her voice but she couldn’t seem to help it. Baird scowled. “In time you’ll see that this is best. The only way I can protect you is to keep you close to me.” “Funny how much being protected feels like being owned.” “I thought you didn’t want to fight.” “You started it.” Liv knew it sounded childish but she didn’t care. He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Olivia…” Then he shook his head, as though sensing the futility of any argument. He pointed a finger at her instead. “I’m going but I’ll be back tonight in time for the start of our tasting week.” “You…I’m surprised you want to…to do anything at all.” Liv worked hard to keep the tremble out of her voice but didn’t quite succeed. He raised an eyebrow. “You mean with you trying to pick a fight at every opportunity and generally resisting me every step of the way? I have news for you, Lilenta, none of that affects the way I feel for you—the way I need you—one bit.” He walked over to the bed where she was sitting on the edge and pulled her to her feet. “I still want you more than any other woman I’ve ever seen. Still need to be inside you, bonding you to me, making you mine,” he growled softly, pulling her close. “Baird, stop it!” She wanted to beat against his broad chest in protest but she somehow found herself melting against him instead. “Don’t you want to give me a kiss goodbye?” There was a flicker of bitter amusement in his golden eyes. “No, I guess you don’t. Too bad.” Leaning down, he took her lips in a rough yet tender kiss that took Liv’s breath away.

January 30 January 30, Morning WORSHIP ME ONLY. Whatever occupies your mind the most becomes your god. Worries, if indulged, develop into idols. Anxiety gains a life of its own, parasitically infesting your mind. Break free from this bondage by affirming your trust in Me and refreshing yourself in My Presence. What goes on in your mind is invisible, undetectable to other people. But I read your thoughts continually, searching for evidence of trust in Me. I rejoice when your mind turns toward Me. Guard your thoughts diligently; good thought-choices will keep you close to Me.

All that has happened let it flow in, all that flows in let it shape you, all that leaves let it go even if that crumbles you, let it all go, let it evaporate in the flames of Time. Don't regret any part of your life, any decision that you had once taken, because that's exactly what it needed to be like at that very moment to make you come this far in this exact space that you occupy now. Sometimes you would be happy with that present space and sometimes you won't, but when you find yourself distraught and broken in that state remind yourself that your journey is not over yet. Sometimes when you look back and see that in some parts of your Life, Life didn't treat you great, know that it isn't Life it is those few people and those chosen situations that Life had planned in chiselling you into your soul's very armour. Sometimes things that happen would never make sense but that's when you know that they are not meant to make sense and you accept them gracefully as a part of God's plans. That is when you learn to accept, in its absolute fullness. At times Life may look stagnant as if nothing makes sense and looking back you might like to put up questions before Life but then you have to keep going, one step at a time, seeping in every breath of air in a single moment, trying to nourish every bit of your soul and that is all around. Pain is immensely powerful and it can either ruin you entirely or form you into something beyond your imagination, but that only happens when you surrender to the summit of the pain and let it flow in each atom of your soul. Let your suffering absorb you into its shell, feel it, embrace it and above all cherish it. Not everyone is given the power to assemble a force so pure and so vulnerably strong. And then each time something comes with a face of anger, envy, fear or grief or anything that is disruptive you walk upon it gently with grace, a smile of calmness, the one that only the ocean finds to reduce the waves of a turbulent gust. That is the cost you have paid. Rather, that is the reward you have earned.

Your mind is wandering, desperately trying to keep itself amused. It's not crazy, says therapist Cineas; it could just be a way to occupy yourself. We all have an active inner life: we're busy making remarks, silently snorting, and imagining scenarios.

Albert, friend to royalty,” Beatrix said later at the Rutledge Hotel, laughing as she sat on the floor of their suite and examined the new collar. “I hope you don’t get above yourself, and put on airs.” “Not around your family, he won’t,” Christopher said, stripping off his coat and waistcoat, and removing his cravat. He lowered himself to the settee, relishing the coolness of the room. Albert went to drink from his bowl of water, lapping noisily. Beatrix went to Christopher, stretched full length atop him, and braced her arms on his chest. “I was so proud of you today,” she said, smiling down at him. “And perhaps a tiny bit smug that with all the women swooning and sighing over you, I’m the one you went home with.” Arching a brow, Christopher asked, “Only a tiny bit smug?” “Oh, very well. Enormously smug.” She began to play with his hair. “Now that all this medal business is done with, I have something to discuss with you.” Closing his eyes, Christopher enjoyed the sensation of her fingers stroking his scalp. “What is it?” “What would you say to adding a new member to the family?” This was not an unusual question. Since they had established a household at Riverton, Beatrix had increased the size of her menagerie, and was constantly occupied with animal-related charities and concerns. She had also compiled a report for the newly established natural history society in London. For some reason it had not been at all difficult to convince the group of elderly entomologists, ornithologists, and other naturalists to include a pretty young woman in their midst. Especially when it became clear that Beatrix could talk for hours about migration patterns, plant cycles, and other matters relating to animal habitats and behavior. There was even discussion of Beatrix’s joining a board to form a new natural history museum, to provide a lady’s perspective on various aspects of the project. Keeping his eyes closed, Christopher smiled lazily. “Fur, feathers, or scales?” he asked in response to her earlier question. “None of those.” “God. Something exotic. Very well, where will this creature come from? Will we have to go to Australia to collect it? Iceland? Brazil?” A tremor of laughter went through her. “It’s already here, actually. But you won’t be able to view it for, say…eight more months.” Christopher’s eyes flew open. Beatrix was smiling down at him, looking shy and eager and more than a little pleased with herself. “Beatrix.” He turned carefully so that she was underneath him. His hand came to cradle the side of her face. “You’re sure?” She nodded. Overwhelmed, Christopher covered her mouth with his, kissing her fiercely. “My love…precious girl…” “It’s what you wanted, then?” she asked between kisses, already knowing the answer. Christopher looked down at her through a bright sheen of joy that made everything blurred and radiant. “More than I ever dreamed. And certainly more than I deserve.” Beatrix’s arms slid around his neck. “I’ll show you what you deserve,” she informed him, and pulled his head down to hers again.

What is the difference between an anxiety reaction and an anxiety attack? Perhaps it can best be explained by degree. The victim of an anxiety attack feels an overall loss of control, of being unable to cope with the situation that caused the symptoms. Thoughts such as “I’m afraid I’m going crazy” or “I’m afraid I’m going to pass out” or “I’m afraid I’m losing control” may occupy the victim’s mind. For those who suffer repeated anxiety attacks, fear of the anxiety symptoms, such as dizziness and sweating, may become as prominent as the fear of the event that causes the symptoms. If you experience a panic attack, follow the steps below to bring it under control. Please note that these steps are not designed to “cure” the panic attack, but they will help you handle it better when it occurs. If you like, jot down these six steps and keep them handy (in your purse or wallet). That way, you’ll have a plan of action the next time a panic attack occurs. 1. Accept the reality. Acknowledge that a panic attack is upon you. Admitting you are panicked does not mean agreeing to continue having panic attacks forever. All it means is that, for the moment, you have to accept the reality and learn to flow with it. Panic attacks do end, and with stress management, you will learn to control your anxiety. 2. Roll with the punch. Just as professional boxers are trained to roll with the punch instead of turning into it, so must you learn to go with the flow of the panic attack. Don’t deny your feelings. Roll with them, and do what you can to make yourself as comfortable as possible until your relaxation techniques bring down your extreme stress level. 3. Try to float with it. Learn to get in touch with your relaxation response, and use deep breathing and mental imagery to float through the panic experience. Go with the force, not against it, to create a sense of ease. Think of a surfer riding a wave. 4. Tell someone you trust. If you are with someone who is close to you, you may feel better if you let that person know you are experiencing an anxiety attack. This can relieve a lot of internal pressure on you (you won’t feel the need to cover up). 5. Use relaxation techniques to bring down your stress level. But this can only be applied once you have mastered the techniques. After you give yourself permission to roll with the attack, you can apply relaxation techniques to bring it down. An increase of even three degrees in hand temperature is enough to abort an anxiety attack. 6. Remember FEAR means FALSE EVIDENCE APPEARS REAL.

So is that what you love about sailing?" she asked. "It keeps your mind busy and occupied?" He still seemed distracted as he tipped his head up to inspect the mainsail. "I guess that's part of it. I like to get everything working just so in order to get the most out of the boat, and I can't rest until she's moving as fast as she can." Evelyn turned the wheel slightly. "And you tell me I'm the one who needs to relax?" His gaze darted to her profile, then he laughed and shook his head. "I did say we were similar creatures, didn't I? We have that in common, I suppose- we both need some slack in our lines." "Speak for yourself!" she replied, feigning great umbrage. "I like my lines pulled very tight, sir, because with my inconceivable beauty, I have to do something to keep the wicked rakes like you at a safe distance." He stared at her, dumbfounded, then they both gave in to their laughter. She wondered how it was possible they could be having this conversation. Who knew she could be amusing? "You're quite a woman, Evelyn." Then he wagged a warning finger at her. "It's a good thing I didn't know you better back at Eton, or you would have been in considerable trouble.

The key if one wishes to avoid dwelling on unpleasant memories or inconvenient truths is to keep yourself occupied.

Excited, on hearing your words o’ man, as you shattered in yourself with pain,that occupied somewhere between your spirit and success. I can bring out a reflection for you to keep—the inspiration that wanders to communicate my presence in your visible soul. It can hold you like a tendril to you only until the wake.

Nora sobered and turned back to the windows, her breath fogging the glass. "We may as well lay some ground rules if we're going to be stuck here for a few days." "Okay." "You can keep the bed, I prefer the sofa. I don't cook. I'm not a maid, so pick up after yourself. You can eat whatever you can find in the kitchen, but I'll warn you, I don't keep much. I prefer my privacy, so you'll have to occupy yourself. Any questions? "Only one." She turned to face him. "What are you hiding from?

Triggers occupy the space between your growth area and somebody else’s—you could work on controlling your reactions, but the other person could also benefit from hearing your feedback. To figure out what your triggers are, ask yourself the following questions: When was the last time someone said something that annoyed me more than it did others around me? Why did I feel so strongly about it? What would my closest friends say my pet peeves are? Who have I met that I’ve immediately been wary of? What made me feel that way? What’s an example of a time when I’ve overreacted and later regretted it? What made me so worked up in that moment? Knowing what lifts you up or brings you down is enormously valuable. Like how athletes have structured diet and exercise regimens to keep them competing in peak condition, the work you do to help yourself operate at your best will lead to many more winning days on the job.

if one wishes to avoid dwelling on unpleasant memories or inconvenient truths is to keep yourself occupied. That fact alone explains much of my youth.

Idle hands are the devils greatest tools. But it’ll be good to notice that the tools sharpened by idle heads. You are idle because that’s the job your mind gave you!

Mistress Rafferty,” began the Sergeant in self-conscious formality of tone, “I am a much older man than the one we have just laid to rest, but I am sober, honest and mindful of the plight of those placed in the situation you find yourself facing. You must take another husband straightway, and there’s many’ll be lining up for the privilege. First, though, I wants to put a proposition before you. My age is forty-six, and I’m due for promotion again before too long passes. I drinks a spot of porter now and again, but no more than that. As a boy I was school-taught and I keeps my hand in by studying from books. I’m clean and tidy about the place, and mostly of a quiet disposition. As a sergeant I earns enough to be comfortable, and my quarters is shaded by trees so it don’t get too plaguey hot. I’ve watched you, Mistress Rafferty, and it seems to me you’re a hard-working girl with fingers that are nimble and a disposition that’s livelier than most. I wouldn’t ask nothing of you save housekeeping and a mite of companionship. In return, I offers you the quietness of my quarters, the use of my books, and a trusty protection. You can have a bed of your own behind a curtain, and the freedom to make the place suitable for a female to occupy.” He shifted from the stiff pose he had adopted and fingered his brown moustache nervously. “I’m a lonely sort of man, Mistress Rafferty, and I’d be a dutiful husband. Oh yes,” he added quickly, as if remembering something he had left out of the rehearsed speech, “I won’t fill the place with the smoke of my cigars to upset you, but step outside when I lights one.

Perhaps I'm old and tired, but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied

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