How dry, how dreary, how hopeless it is to see the same view day after day. No, I revise that. It is only hopeless to those who wish to see a new view. Those who wish sameness and consistency and predictability revel in the same view and come to cherish it. Those who wish to view alternative vistas, however, are slowly killed by sameness; their hope drained away, and replaced by a cold death: resignation.
To pluck oneself from the sameness takes greater and greater effort as the dreary days drag on. An object in motion tends to stay in motion, while objects at a standstill need greater effort to budge. Or something like that. Sameness ossifies. Consistency creates deeper and deeper ruts. I will be dried, stiff and buried before I am medically dead.
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