To sum it all up, it's about repetition.

Sleep, she said. Sleep while you can. Forget where you are and forget the mountain of days. Each one enormous, lost in some forest that never ends, but then the edge will fold back and you'll walk on what was the sky and is now only another forest floor, another layer, and you can feel the weight of hundreds of these layers above you.

Are we going to be stronger than the sum of our parts or are we going to be endlessly bickering among ourselves and allowing the bully to basically mop the floor with us?

A baseball swing is a very finely tuned instrument. It is repetition, and more repetition, then a little more after that.

Like warmed-up cabbage served at each repast, The repetition kills the wretch at last.

Any idea, plan, or purpose may be placed in the mind through repetition of thought.