Novelty Wears Off Quotes

Like so many of life's varieties of experience, the novelty of a diagnosis of malignant cancer has a tendency to wear off. The thing begins to pall, even to become banal. One can become quite used to the specter of the eternal Footman, like some lethal old bore lurking in the hallway at the end of the evening, hoping for the chance to have a word. And I don't so much object to his holding my coat in that marked manner, as if mutely reminding me that it's time to be on my way. No, it's the snickering that gets me down.

I suspect that people with depression are fixated on the possibility of ambition being rewarded with happiness. Probably more than most people are. That’s because ambition about the future is a way of avoiding looking at a past that’s often pretty bleak or a future that is terrifying. This isn’t to say that getting a better job or a pile of money can’t be really great. They often are. Achievements or windfalls can often wipe out a particular cause of worry or dread, maybe even wipe out that worry forever. But then you get used to that new version of normal, the novelty wears off, and you’re left with the same brain you’ve always had, and that’s when depression emerges from dormancy.

It appears that ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriage is not possible without possession; with totally differing aims the method is the same on both sides. But the understood incentive on the woman's part was wanting here. Besides, Bathsheba's position as absolute mistress of a farm and house was a novel one, and the novelty had not yet begun to wear off.

In our society, wisdom is hard to come by. As Isaac Asimov once said, “The saddest aspect of society right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.” Unlike information, it cannot be dispensed via blogs and Internet chatter. Since we are drowning in an ocean of information, the most precious commodity in modern society is wisdom. Without wisdom and insight, we are left to drift aimlessly and without purpose, with an empty, hollow feeling after the novelty of unlimited information wears off.

Then, about half an hour into it, the novelty will wear off and he’ll wonder why he’s there, surrounded by people he doesn’t know, feeling a strange emptiness that defies definition.

There are several predictable thinking errors people commonly make that lead them to incorrectly predict their own future emotions in general, and future happiness in particular: 1 Focusing on a single salient feature or period of time in a choice, rather than looking at the big picture. 2 Overestimating the long-term impact of our choices. 3 Forgetting that happiness is an ongoing process, not a destination. 4 Paying too much attention to external information while overlooking personal preferences and experience. 5 Trying to maximize decisions rather than focusing on personal satisfaction. 6 Confusing wanting something for liking it later, and forgetting to evaluate whether we will enjoy the choice once its novelty wears off.

"Lost is kingdom with many paths, but they all end at the same place. Do you know where?" I bit back a sigh, because now that the novelty was wearing off, the stranger was beginning to grate on me. "I imagine you mean Faerie. The kingdom of the lost, it is called in some of the oldest tales. Rather poetic, isn't it? But most likely it simply refers to the habit the Folk have of leading careless mortals astray." He blinked at me, this strange apparition of a man, and for a moment he looked almost sane. "You just might do it," he murmured after a pause. "A silly child with her hair all in tangles.

Research on emotion shows that positive emotions wear off quickly. Our emotional systems like newness. They like novelty. They like change. We adapt to positive life circumstances so that before too long, the new car, the new spouse, the new house—they don’t feel so new and exciting anymore. But gratitude makes us appreciate the value of something, and when we appreciate the value of something, we extract more benefits from it; we’re less likely to take it for granted. In effect, I think gratitude allows us to participate more in life. We notice the positives more, and that magnifies the pleasures you get from life. Instead of adapting to goodness, we celebrate goodness. We spend so much time watching things—movies, computer screens, sports—but with gratitude we become greater participants in our lives as opposed to spectators.

Even if you escaped this place, which is impossible,” Death said, “you would never reach her. I glanced up at Death. “So my plan should be to wait here, docile, until you murder me? Along with the rest of your lackeys?” Saying these words out loud was like a corner turned, a line crossed. One answer rang through me. Never. After my mother’s sacrifice for me, I’d be damned if I rolled over now. I owed it to her to fight. I had a new mission: self-preservation. I had to get this cuff off, so I could protect myself from Death. Sooner or later the novelty of having me here, his princess in the tower, would wear off. I needed to be ready. “Why didn’t you tell me about Jack earlier? And Matthew? Why not just torpedo me from the beginning?” “My reasons are my own. But I did warn you not to give Deveaux your innocence.” I rolled my eyes at his terminology. “Really, Father Time? And what business is it of yours anyway?

Without warning, a smooth voice spoke next to her ear- a woman's voice with an American accent. "You're nothing but a skinny, awkward child, just as he described. He's visited me since the wedding, you know. He and I have laughed together over your juvenile infatuation with him. You bore him senseless." Pandora turned and found herself confronted by Mrs. Nola Black. The woman was breathtaking, her features creamy-skinned and flawless, her eyes deep and dark under brows so perfectly groomed and delineated, they looked like thin strips of velvet. Although Mrs. Black was approximately the same height as Pandora, her figure was a remarkable hourglass shape, with a waist so small one could have buckled a cat's collar around it. "That's nothing but bitchful thinking," Pandora said calmly. "He hasn't visited you, or he would have told me." Mrs. Black was clearly "picking for a fight," as Winterborne would have put it. "He'll never be faithful to you. Everyone knows you're a peculiar girl who tricked him into marriage. He appreciates novelty, to be sure, but it will wear off, and then he'll send you packing to some remote country house." Pandora was filled with a confusing mixture of feelings. Jealousy, because this woman had known Gabriel intimately, and had meant something to him... and antagonism, but also a stirring of pity, because there was something wounded in the biting darkness of her eyes. Behind the stunning façade, she was a savagely unhappy woman. "I'm sure you think that's what I should fear," Pandora said, "but I actually don't worry about that at all. I didn't trick him, by the way." She paused before adding, "I'll admit to being peculiar. But he seems to like that.

hear you’re going to be on crutches for quite a while.” “Yes, well—” “Abigail has already said she’s moving back home to help you.” “Oh,” said Madeline. “Oh.” She fingered the pink petals of the flowers. “Well, I’ll talk to her about it. I’ll be perfectly fine. She doesn’t need to look after me.” “No, but I think she wants to move back home,” said Nathan. “She’s looking for an excuse.” Madeline and Ed looked at each other. Ed shrugged. “I always thought the novelty would wear off,” said Nathan. “She missed her mum. We’re not her real life.” “Right.” “So. I should get going,” said Ed. “Could you stay for a moment, mate?

The president fundamentally wants to be liked” was Katie Walsh’s analysis. “He just fundamentally needs to be liked so badly that it’s always … everything is a struggle for him.” This translated into a constant need to win something—anything. Equally important, it was essential that he look like a winner. Of course, trying to win without consideration, plan, or clear goals had, in the course of the administration’s first nine months, resulted in almost nothing but losses. At the same time, confounding all political logic, that lack of a plan, that impulsivity, that apparent joie de guerre, had helped create the disruptiveness that seemed to so joyously shatter the status quo for so many. But now, Bannon thought, that novelty was finally wearing off. For Bannon, the Strange-Moore race had been a test of the Trump cult of personality. Certainly Trump continued to believe that people were following him, that he was the movement—and that his support was worth 8 to 10 points in any race. Bannon had decided to test this thesis and to do it as dramatically as possible. All told, the Senate Republican leadership and others spent $ 32 million on Strange’s campaign, while Moore’s campaign spent $ 2 million. Trump, though aware of Strange’s deep polling deficit, had agreed to extend his support in a personal trip. But his appearance in Huntsville, Alabama, on September 22, before a Trump-size crowd, was a political flatliner. It was a full-on Trump speech, ninety minutes of rambling and improvisation—the wall would be built (now it was a see-through wall), Russian interference in the U.S. election was a hoax, he would fire anybody on his cabinet who supported Moore. But, while his base turned out en masse, still drawn to Trump the novelty, his cheerleading for Luther Strange drew at best a muted response. As the crowd became restless, the event threatened to become a hopeless embarrassment. Reading his audience and desperate to find a way out, Trump suddenly threw out a line about Colin Kaepernick taking to his knee while the national anthem played at a National Football League game. The line got a standing ovation. The president thereupon promptly abandoned Luther Strange for the rest of the speech. Likewise, for the next week he continued to whip the NFL. Pay no attention to Strange’s resounding defeat five days after the event in Huntsville. Ignore the size and scale of Trump’s rejection and the Moore-Bannon triumph, with its hint of new disruptions to come. Now Trump had a new topic, and a winning one: the Knee.

But have you ever been in love? Like a mom and a dad?” “I thought I was, a couple times,” I answered truthfully. “But sometimes that kind of love is really just other things dressed up in a fancy costume.” Mariah nodded. “And when the fancy costume is off, you see that it wasn’t really love?” “Sort of. Yes,” I said, deciding that it wasn’t a perfect metaphor, but it was good enough for a Tuesday night after a couple glasses of merlot. “I think real love will keep feeling like real love, even after the costume is off and the novelty wears thin.” “What’s novelty?” “Newness,” I told her. “Real love should last, you know? It should grow even stronger over time, not fade away.” “I didn’t know love could fade away.” Mariah’s voice trembled a little. “It can’t,” I promised her. “Real love doesn’t fade. It only gets stronger.

You don’t undermine your relationship when it starts, you do it the moment you let the novelty to wear off.

Novelty wears off when you are not totally devoted to the limitless expansion of your sensuality.

Twenty-five years ago, economist Tibor Scitovsky explored some of the consequences of the phenomenon of adaptation in his book The Joyless Economy. Human beings, Scitovsky said, want to experience pleasure. And when they consume, they do experience pleasure—as long as the things they consume are novel. But as people adapt—as the novelty wears off—pleasure comes to be replaced by comfort. It’s a thrill to drive your new car for the first few weeks; after that, it’s just comfortable. It certainly beats the old car, but it isn’t much of a kick. Comfort is nice enough, but people want pleasure. And comfort isn’t pleasure.

The novelty wears off.

I think real love will keep feeling like real love, even after the costume is off and the novelty wears thin.” “What’s novelty?” “Newness,” I told her. “Real love should last, you know? It should grow even stronger over time, not fade away.

If you had caught me in a quiet moment, when [...] stimuli weren’t bombarding me, [and asked me how I was feeling] I would have responded [...]: Something’s not right. I feel unsettled. Everything feels like the same old, same old. Something is missing. [...] I saw that all of my perceived happiness was really just a reaction to stimuli in the external world that made me feel certain ways. I then understood that I was totally addicted to my environment, and I was dependent on external cues to reinforce my emotional addiction. What a moment for me. I had heard a million times that happiness comes from within, but it never hit me like this before [...] Staying busy keeps unwanted emotions at bay. [...] But when we never overcome our limitations and continue carrying the baggage from our past, it will always catch up with us. [...] [People may try to make all sorts of external environmental changes in] futile efforts to do or try something new so that they can feel better or different. But emotionally, when the novelty wears off, they are still stuck with the same identity. [...] When we keep that diversion up, guess what eventually happens? We grow more dependent on something outside of us to change us internally. [...] Nothing outside of us can ever make us happy. [...] Nothing in our environment is going to “fix” the way we feel. [...] Let go of the façade, the games, and the illusions. [...] Happiness comes from within. [...] Once you change your internal state, you don’t need the external world to provide you with a reason to feel joy, gratitude, appreciation, or any other elevated emotion.

Young women all just want to be married to a good man, and they’ve no idea how fast the novelty of that wears off. And those of us who are married to good men all want to be married to somebody else’s good man....

True sensuality begins after the initial excitement wears off.

My salad days—that time when youth, enthusiasm, and idealism all combine into one exhilarating and unstoppable force—were officially over. The salad days don’t last forever, and neither does Internet fame. Quite simply, there are a host of new, exciting creative exploits happening all over the world at any given second, and the novelty of “the hot new thing” is doomed to wear off eventually. When that happens, there are only two paths forward: to give up or grow up. Let the growing pains commence.

my philosophy of raising kids is kind of extreme. I think you should keep a baby around for a few days after it’s born—until the novelty wears off—and then you put it in a big cardboard box with all the best books of Eastern and Western civilization. Then you bury the box and dig it up again when the kid’s eighteen.

So, you put up with yourself in exchange for nice things, until the novelty wears off and you have to go back out to the shops looking for something nice to give yourself in exchange for temporary inner peace and self-acceptance once again.

Caitlyn screwed up her face. “New relationship. The novelty will wear off soon enough. I wouldn’t bother getting too used to it.” Sandy Gillespie’s house was in darkness when they opened the gate and headed up the path. It was barely after three, but the nights were drawing in, and several of the surrounding houses had some lights on. “Reckon he’s home?” Hamza asked. “Fingers crossed,” said Caitlyn, taking the lead. She hammered out a rhythmic knock on the door, then listened.

No matter your language, the language of love, is a novelty that never wears off.

The essayist and investor Paul Graham, a peer and rival of Peter Thiel’s, has charted the trajectory of a start-up, with all its ups and downs. After the initial bump of media attention, the rush of excitement from the unexpected success, Graham says that the founders enter a phase where the novelty begins to wear off, and they quickly descend from their early euphoria into what he calls the “trough of sorrow.” A start-up launches with its investments, gets a few press hits, and then smacks right into reality. Many companies never make it out of this ditch. “The problem with the Silicon Valley,” as Jim Barksdale, the former CEO and president of Netscape, once put it, “is that we tend to confuse a clear view with a short distance.” Here, too, like the founders of a start-up, the conspirators have smacked into reality. The reality of the legal system. The defensive bulwark of the First Amendment. The reality of the odds. They have discovered the difference between a good plan and how far they’ll need to travel to fulfill it. They have trouble even serving Denton with papers. Harder has to request a 120-day extension just to wrap his head around Gawker’s financial and corporate structure. This is going to be harder than they thought. It always is. To say that in 2013 all the rush and excitement present on those courthouse steps several months earlier had dissipated would be a preposterous understatement. If a conspiracy, by its inherent desperation and disadvantaged position, is that long struggle in a dark hallway, here is the point where one considers simply sitting down and sobbing in despair, not even sure what direction to go. Is this even possible? Are we wrong? Machiavelli wrote that fortune—misfortune in fact—aims herself where “dikes and dams have not been made to contain her.” Clausewitz said that battle plans were great but ultimately subject to “friction”—delays, confusion, mistakes, and complications. What is friction? Friction is when you’re Pericles and you lay out a brilliant plan to defend Athens against Sparta and then your city is hit by the plague.

how long will Sunny want me? The novelty will eventually wear off for her, and by the time she’s my age, I’ll be sixty. Will she find me so sexy then? Will she still want me or will she move on to someone younger? Better?