Why Do I Workout Quotes

Grandpa recently turned sixty-five and went to the doctor for a complete physical. After an exam the doctor said grandpa was doing "fairly well" for his age. Grandpa was a little concerned and asked, "Doc, do you think I'll live to eighty?" The doctor asked, "Do you smoke tobacco or drink alcohol?" "Oh no," Grandpa replied, "and I don't do drugs, either." "Do you have many friends and entertain frequently?" Grandpa said, "No, I usually stay home and keep to myself." "Do you eat beef and pork?" "No, my other doctor said red meat is unhealthy!" "Do you spend a lot of time doing things in the sun, like playing golf, sailing, or bicycling?" "No, I don't." "Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have lots of sex?" "No, I don't do any of those things anymore." The doctor looked at Grandpa and said, "Then why do you care? ~ Scott McNeely

He studied it, steepling his long fingers. I groaned. Enough was enough.
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"That." I mimicked his hands, flattened my brows and tried to make my eyes look somewhat insane.
"I will have you know that it is my meditative pose."
"I will have you know that you look ridiculous."
"What about you?" he asked. He sucked in his cheeks and glowered, pointing at his face and then pointing at me. "What kind of meditative pose is that?"
"It's not a meditative pose at all," I shot back.
"My apologies. Is it your bellicose-let-me-drain-your-blood face? Could you not master an expression that looked less like an outraged cat?"
"Better than steepling my hands and looking like an overgrown spider."
"An overgrown spider who is rarely wrong."
"My bellicose-let-me-drain-your-blood face has saved your life."
"And this overgrown-spider pose is about to save yours. ~ Roshani Chokshi

I never thought I'd find someone like you. Someone who'd put up with me having a son and wanting to be part of both our lives. Why do you do it, Becca?" I ask, my heart pounding against my chest.
"Because, Josh. You and Tommy ... " She places my hand over her heart. " ... you own me in here." And even as I feel her heart beat against my palm, I wonder if she knows that she just made mine stop. ~ Jay McLean

For me to simply tell you to find your life's purpose, would only worsen your anxiety, not make it better. But that's not what I want you to do. I simply want you to realise that there is something to be found. That your calling is still out there, and that's why you might be unhappy. ~ S.R. Crawford

Tell me, Princess Olivia... why do you have to stay in your tower?"
The soft entreaty made Livia feel as if she were melting inside. She laughed unsteadily, wishing for a moment that she dared to trust him. But the habit of independence was too strong. Shaking her head, Livia approached him, expecting him to back away from the doorway. He retreated half a step, his hands still grasping the edges of the doorway, so that she couldn't help but walk into an open-armed embrace. The bonnet ribbons slipped from her fingers.
"Mr. Shaw-" she began, making the mistake of looking up at him.
"Gideon," he whispered. "I want to know your secrets, Olivia."
A bitter half smile touched her lips. "You'll hear them sooner or later from other people."
"I want to hear them from you."
As Livia began to retreat into the glasshouse, Shaw deftly caught the little cloth belt of her walking dress. His long fingers hooked beneath the reinforced fabric.
Unable to back away from him, Livia clamped her hand over his, while a hectic blush flooded her face. She knew that he was toying with her, and that she once might have been able to manage this situation with relative ease. But not now.
When she spoke, her voice was husky. "I can't do this, Mr. Shaw."
To her amazement, he seemed to understand exactly what she meant. "You don't have to do anything," he said softly. "Just let me come closer... and stay right there..." His head bent, and he found her mouth easily. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I used to think of work as a bad word. Back in the corporate world, work was something that prevented me from living, something that kept me from feeling satisfied or fulfilled or passionate. Even the word itself carried with it a negative connotation. Work - bluck! When I left the corporate world, I swore off the word altogether. Noun, verb, adjective - I avoided all of work's iterations. I no longer 'went to work,' so that was easy to remove from my vocabulary. In fact, I no longer 'worked' at all; instead I replaced the word with a more specific verb: I would 'write' or 'teach' or 'speak' or 'volunteer,' but I refused to 'work.' I no longer went to the gym to 'workout'; instead I 'exercised.' And I stopped wearing 'work clothes'; I chose instead to wear 'dress clothes.' And I avoided getting 'worked up,' preferring to call it 'stress' or 'anxiety.' And I didn't bring my car to the shop to get 'worked on,' deciding instead to have my vehicle 'repaired.' Hell, I even avoided 'handiwork' 92 and 'housework,' selecting their more banal alternatives. Suffice it to say, I wanted nothing to do with the word. I wanted it not only stricken from my lexicon, but from my memory, erasing every shred of the thing that kept me from pursuing my dream for over a decade. But after a year of that nonsense, I realized something: it wasn't the word that was bad; it was the meaning I gave to the word. It took removing the word from my everyday speech for a year to discover that it wasn't a bad w ~ Joshua Fields Millburn

I am sick of speaking English like this ... I am scared that I have become a person who is always very aware of talking, speaking, and I have become a person without confidence, because I can't be me. I have become so small, so tiny, while the English culture surrounding me becomes enormous. It swallows me ... I am dominated by it ... Why do we have to force ourselves to communicate with people? Why is the process of communication so troubled and so painful? ~ Xiaolu Guo

What does that mean, anyway?" I ask. "The Palace frowns? Who is this Palace and why do we give a shit that they're frowning at us? ~ Emma Chase

I just wish moments weren't so fleeting!' Isaac called to the man on the roof, 'They pass so quickly!'
'Fleeting?!' responded the tilling man, 'Moments? They pass quickly?! ... Why, once a man is finished growing, he still has twenty years of youth. After that, he has twenty years of middle age. Then, unless misfortune strikes, nature gives him twenty thoughtful years of old age. Why do you call that quickly?' And with that, the tilling man wiped his sweaty brow and continued tilling; and the dejected Isaac continued wandering.
'Stupid fool!' Isaac muttered quietly to himself as soon as he was far enough away not to be heard. ~ Roman Payne

Tell me, why do you think I do this?" The king sounds curious. "Out of lust? Is that what you think?"
Kill a cardinal? Divide your country? Split the church? 'Seems extravagant,' Chapuys murmurs. ~ Hilary Mantel

Are you gay, Cherie?
Me, No… I'm not anything… I-I mean I prefer not to indulge, I stammered.
"Really... how do you mean?"
Well love has been an elusive story, like a fairytale adults tell children but I have never known any of it to be true. In reality it reminds me of religion. I am not sure God is real either, if God is real why do so many innocents suffer?
Innocents suffer because it is their destiny to suffer.
What? What does that mean?" I'm annoyed.
God has nothing to do with it. We are born into this world to experience all that is not God-like, so we can then be inspired to reach for higher spiritual goals.
I have never thought of it that way before. If that is so then I must be preparing for sainthood. Am I to think that all of my suffering as a child has been to prepare me for greatness? ~ Darwun St. James

I didn't ask him why, if I was doing all the Lord asked, I'd just had a heart attack and how come my wife had left me and taken my son away from me a week before Thanksgiving. Why didn't I ask the reverend? I supposed I didn't want to hear him speak about faith and about God acting in mysterious ways. And I didn't know whether or not I would have felt any better when we were done.

But my faith was weak right then, and I doubted it.

Reverend Prior must have sensed that misgivings were clouding my vision. He said, "Don't make the mistake of measuring God's love by the yardstick of your own life, Mr. Purdy."

"What else do I have?" I asked. ~ Stephen White

Anything I do, I do with my heart. This is why I sometimes get very upset or sometimes get very personal when I'm working. ~ Riccardo Tisci

Because they're wrong. People who judge me are wrong. There's nothing wrong with me. There's nothing wrong with being gay, or how I dress, or how I choose to express myself. I'm not hurting anyone, but they're hurting me. If I change to fit in with their misguided opinions then I'm just reinforcing them. On top of that, their lives wouldn't alter. They don't know me. They have an issue with gay people in general, not me personally. So, if I changed who I was to fit in with what they deem an acceptable society, it wouldn't affect them, but it would affect me. I'd be living a lie. I'd be miserable, and they wouldn't even know about it. They'd find another gay person to disapprove of. So why do that? Why change for people who don't even know who I am?" This ~ Nicola Haken

WELCOME. YOU ARE MOST WANTED.
Come in. I'm R.L. Stine. Welcome to the Goosebumps office.
Glad you made it through the barbed wire fence. Don't worry. Those cuts will stop bleeding in an hour or two.
Why do we have a barbed wire fence? To keep the Abominable Snowman from escaping. I'm surprised you didn't see him. He's creeping up right behind you. Hurry. Step inside and shut the door. You don't want to find out why everyone calls him Abominable.
Hey, don't be scared of Eddie over there. Eddie woke up dead tired one morning. Guess what? He actually was dead. Yes, Eddie is a zombie. But he doesn't like that word. He likes to be called "life-challenged."
He's not much trouble. He only needs to eat human flesh once a day. Don't be nervous. He just finished his breakfast.
Whom did he have for breakfast? I'm not sure. But I haven't seen my brother all morning...
Eddie - what did I tell you about eating the family?
Oh, well. Let me ask you a question before Eddie has to have his next meal. What do you think is the Most Wanted holiday? ~ R.L. Stine

Bout time you got here," Keefe called as they crested a hill and entered a grassy meadow peppered with tiny blue flowers. "I was getting tired of stomping Fitz to a pulp in bramble."

"Only because you cheat!" Fitz shouted, tossing a red tri-pointed ball at Keefe.

Keefe caught it and whipped it back so fast Fitz had to dive to avoid being smacked in the face. Then the strange ball curved back like a boomerang and Keefe caught it one-handed. "Only losers play fair. Which is why I call Foster for my team today."

"Hey - why do you get her?" Fitz asked, ~ Shannon Messenger

Nous avons ete amies," I added. "There,that's two in French, and using past perfect, no less."
I couldn't see his expression clearly. It flet like a long time before he said anything. "Ella..." He paused, then, "What happened? Between you and Anna?"
"Other than the fact that I'm a fashion-impaired poor kid who draws doorknobs? Haven't a clue."
Alex leaned forward. Now I could see his face. He looked annoyed. "Why do you do that? Diminish yourself?"
"I don't-"
"Bullshit."
I could feel my cheeks flaming, feel my shoulders curving inward. "I don't-"
"Right.Don't.Just don't, with me, anyway. I like you better feisty."
I couldn't help it; that made me smile. "Did you really just say 'feisty'?"
"I did.It's a good word."
"It's am old word, favored by granddads and pirates."
"Yar," Alex sighed.
"Face it.You're just an old-fashioned guy."
"Whatever.Three...?"
"Three," I said, and changed my mind midthought. "I haven't been able to decide if Willing is the second best thing that ever happened to me, or the second worst."
"What are the firsts?"
"Nope.Uh-uh.It is not for you to ask, Alexander Bainbridge, but to reveal."
He drained his glass and rolled it back and forth between his hands. "I had all these funny admissions planned, but you've screwed up my plans. Hey. Don't go all wounded-wide-eyed on me. It's cute, that Bambi thing you have going, but beside the point.Now I have to rethink."
"You don ~ Melissa Jensen

What do you think of when you think of mourning?' Jenny asks.
The question snaps me back to attention. I answer without really thinking. "I guess 'Funeral Blues' by W.H. Auden. I think it was Auden. I suppose that's not very original.'
'I don't know it.'
'It's a poem.'
'I gathered.'
'I'm just clarifying. It's not a blues album.'
Jenny ignores my swipe at her intelligence.
'Does your response need to be original? Isn't that what poetry is for, for the poet to express something so personal that it ultimately is universal?'
I shrug. Who is Jenny, even new Jenny, to say what poetry is for? Who am I for that matter?
'Why do you thin of that poem in particular?'
"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, / Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, / Silence the pianos and with muffled drum / Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.'
I learned the poem in college and it stuck. ~ Steven Rowley

A while ago?" Anaxantis asked. "Yes, he raped me a while ago. Exactly nine months and two days ago. What's that? Nine months or nine minutes. It's the same. And it is in the past, you say? Then why is it still happening, every day, every time I close my eyes? Every time I hear someone behind me, and I don't know who it is? How is it that I get an almost irresistible urge to kill anyone who happens to touch me unexpectedly? Tell me, Hemarchidas, how do I forgive, let alone forget, something that is still happening, that keeps happening over and over? How? How do I do that? ~ Andrew Ashling

Curiosity evokes 'concern'; it evokes the care one takes for what exists and could exist; a readiness to find strange and singular what surrounds us; a certain relentlessness to break up our familiarities and to regard otherwise the same things; a fervor to grasp what is happening and what passes; a casualness in regard to the traditional hierarchies of the important and the essential. I dream of a new age of curiosity. We have the technical means for it; the desire is there; the things to be known are infinite; the people who can employ themselves at this task exist. Why do we suffer? From too little: from the channels that are too narrow, skimpy, quasi-monopolistic, insufficient. There is no point in adopting a protectionist attitude, to prevent 'bad' information from invading and suffocating the 'good.' Rather, we must multiply the paths and the possibility of comings and goings. ~ Michel Foucault

I saw a man swerve his car and try to hit a stray dog, but the quick mutt dodged between two parked cars and made his escape. God, I thought, did I just see what I think I saw? At the next red light, I pulled up beside the man and stared hard at him. He knew that'd I seen his murder attempt, but he didn't care. He smiled and yelled loud enough for me to hear him through our closed windows: 'Don't give me that face unless you're going to do something about it. Come on, tough guy, what are you going to do?' I didn't do anything. I turned right on the green. He turned left against traffic. I don't know what happened to that man or the dog, but I drove home and wrote this poem. Why do poets think they can change the world? The only life I can save is my own. ~ Sherman Alexie

I don't dislike them, nor do I like them. I've never understood why one must love children simply because they are children. I don't love people because they are people; in fact, I rarely like any people at all. If a child is somehow deserving of admiration, I certainly won't deny it, but why hand it out like candy on Queen's Day? ~ Kiersten White

it is one thing to explain that mortality in general is good for
people in general. It is something else again to try to tell someone who has lost a parent, a wife, or a child, that death is good. We
don't dare try to do that. It would be cruel and thoughtless. All we can say to someone at a time like that is that vulnerability to death is
one of the given conditions of life. We can't explain it any more than we can explain life itself. We can't control it, or sometimes even
postpone it. All we can do is try to rise beyond the question "Why did it happen?" and begin to ask the question "What do I do now that
it has happened? ~ Harold S. Kushner

Why do you demand of me a heroism that perhaps you have not either? It is despotism; it is tyranny. If I ruin anyone, it is only myself ... I am not committing a murder. Why do you look at me like that? Why are you so pale? Rodya, darling, what's the matter? ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

There are thousands of them to fight. Even going after the Dimme in there is suicide. (Sin)
Who wants to live forever? (Kat)
For the record, I do. (Kish)
Then why do you irritate me so often? (Sin)
Suicidal tendencies are inherent in my species? (Kish) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

You've been in the mating frenzy before."
Eric looked up at her, his eyes quiet. "Yes."
"With Kirsten."
"Yes."
Iona touched her hands together. "You must have loved her very much."
Eric nodded. "Yes. Very much."
"Then why do you want another mate?"
Eric pushed himself from the fireplace and came to her, the first flickers of fire shadowing his tall, naked body. He skimmed warm hands down her arms.
"Because I saw you. ~ Jennifer Ashley

I find that the older I get, the clearer I want things to be. I think this is a natural symptom of maturation - as we age, mysteries pile up, and they're usually not the fun ones: Just how long do I have? Why do some people get what they deserve, and others don't? Why are certain problems so easy to solve, while others are totally impossible? Will they ever, ever bring working jetpacks to the marketplace? ~ Chip Kidd

Why do you keep saying that " he asked in response "Apples and oranges aren't that different really. I mean they're both fruit. Their weight is extremely similar. They both contain acidic elements. They're both roughly spherical. They serve the same social purpose. With the possible exception of a tangerine I can't think of anything more similar to an orange than an apple. If I was having lunch with a man who was eating an apple and-while I was looking away-he replaced that apple with an orange I doubt I'd even notice. So how is this a metaphor for difference I could understand if you said 'That's like comparing apples and uranium ' or 'That's like comparing apples with baby wolverines ' or 'That's like comparing apples with the early work of Raymond Carver ' or 'That's like comparing apples with hermaphroditic ground sloths.' Those would all be valid examples of profound disparity. ~ Chuck Klosterman

Sydney: Can I ask you a question? Me: As long as you promise never again to start a question off with whether or not you can propose a question. Sydney: Okay, asshole. I know I shouldn't be thinking about him at all, but I'm curious. What did he wrote on that paper when we went to get my purse? And what did you write back that made hit you? Me: I agree that you shouldn't be thinking about him at all, but I'm honestly shocked it's taken you this long to ask me about it. Sydney: Well? Ugh. I hate writing it verbatim, but she wants to know, so ... Me: He wrote "Are you fucking her?" Sydney: OMG! What a prick! Me: Yep. Sydney: So what did you say back to him that made him punch you? Me: I write, "Why do you think I'm here for her purse? I gave her a hundred for tonight, and now she owes me change." I reread the text, and I'm not so sure it sounds as funny as I thought it did. ~ Colleen Hoover

In terms of experience, we want to make this (referring to the self) very pleasant. We want this to be blissful, ecstatic. But, as I said before, even being ecstatic is not goal by itself. If you are blissful by your own nature, then the important thing is that you are no more the issue. There are other issues in this existence; we can look at those. But if you are an issue, what other issue will you take in your hands? You will not touch anything. When I am enough trouble myself, why do I want to take on this one or that one? When I am no more an issue, now I am willing to dig into the whole existence and see what it is all about. ~ Jaggi Vasudev

But do I need to say anything?" Sophie asked. "Do I need to learn any words?"
"Like what?" Saint-Germain said.
"Well, when you lit up the Eiffel tower, you said something that sounded like eggness."
"Ignis," the count said. "Latin for fire. No, you don't need to say anything."
"Then why did you do it, then?" Sophie asked.
Saint-Germain grinned. "I just thought it sounded cool. ~ Michael Scott

Oh, Adam. When will you stop messing everything up? And why do I keep letting you? ~ Kiersten White

Do I like to write? Why? About what? Will I give up and say, "Living and feeding a man's insatiable guts and begetting children occupies my whole life. Don't have time to write"? ~ Sylvia Plath

You've circled the globe to find yourself in the Globe,milady." Bill sketched a little bow.
"The Globe Theatre?" Luce ducked as the woman in front of her discarded a gnawed-on turkey leg by tossing it over her shoulder. "You mean, like, Shakespeare?"
"Well, he claims to be retired. You know those artist types. So moody." Bill swooped down near the ground, tugging at the hem of her dress and humming to himself.
"Othello happened here," Luce said, taking a moment to let it all sink in. "The Tempest. Romeo and Juliet. We're practically standing in the center of all the greatest love stories ever written."
"Actually,you're standing in walnut shells."
"Why do you have to be so glib about everything? This is amazing!"
"Sorry,I didn't realize we'd need a moment of bardolatry." His words came out lisped because of the needle clipped between his jagged teeth. "Now stand still."
"Ouch!" Luce yelped as he jabbed sharply into her kneecap. "What are you doing?"
"Un-Anachronizing you.These folks'll pay good money for a freak show, but they're expecting it to stay onstage. ~ Lauren Kate

Why do you even want to be here with me? You can barely stand to look at me for the most part, let alone be around me. I'm doing you a favor here, Nathan. I'm freeing you of me."
"Wait ... Stay."
"No."
"I'm not asking."
"I thought we were done."
"We'll never be done. ~ Samantha Towle

He says nothing yet
How do I understand everything

Why does my soul vent out the anger
At someone my heart adores

Why do his words go straight
To my heart and
Deep into the soul

Why does the time fail
In telling the truth ~ Jyoti Patel

What do you think it is to be normal?'
Why in the world would you want to be?' she says.
I don't know. I guess that's the problem.'
I don't think normal is that great.'
But so many people choose it,' I reply.
I don't think that's it at all. I think most everyone is normal and some of us, for whatever reason, choose to reject that and wear ruby red slippers or old black hats.'
Well, why do we choose the hard road? ~ Patrick Jones

If you insist on asking me why I feel the way I do, I plan to take the Fifth Amendment. ~ Mason Cooley

Isn't that the tie Lily bought for your birthday?"

Evan looked down to examine it. It was paisley, a kaleidoscope of color. "Yes it is, as a matter of fact. Good memory. What do you think? Too much?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"But you don't like it."

"I think that if you want to wear it, you should wear it."

Evan seemed momentarily undecided. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Refuse to answer a simple question."

"Because my opinion is irrelevant. You should wear what you want."

"Just tell me, okay?"

"I don't like your tie."

"Really? Why not?"

"Because it's ugly."

"It's not ugly."

Colin nodded. "Okay."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Probably."

"You don't even wear ties."

"You're right."

"So why do I care what you think?"

"I don't know."

Evan scowled. "Talking to you can be infuriating, you know."

"I know. You've said that before."

"Of course I've said it before! Because it's true! Didn't we just talk about this the other night? You don't have to say whatever pops into your head."

"But you asked."

"Just ... Oh, forget it." He turned and started back toward the house. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Where are you going?"

Evan walked a couple of steps before answeri ~ Nicholas Sparks

I know the consequences of what I've done. Kill me if You must.
There was a long silence, and I could sense Her softening, that strange affection She shared with me above the others.
Do you think I rejoice in death?
I raised my head. What?
There is no joy for Me in punishing you or in taking lives. I do what I must to survive. And not only would I not delight in your death, I would mourn it. You must know by now how dear you are to Me.
I swallowed. Why me? Why do I have Your favor more so than the others?
She was so tender with me, lifting me up from the sand as if She were cradling a baby. Considering her timelessness and my temporariness, I practically was a newborn in Her eyes.
Throughout My many, many years and all the sirens I've carried in My hands, none of them has considered Me as you do. There's been a detachment, a deliberate isolation between them and Me.
But you? You come to Me with a sweetness, an attempt to understand. You come to Me even when you are not called. I feel for you what a mother feels for her daughter. To end your life would be to end Mine.
I cried again. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt You. ~ Kiera Cass

It's as if I had been going downhill when I thought I was going uphill. That's how it was. In society's opinion I was heading uphill, but in equal measure life was slipping away from me ... And now it's all over. Nothing left but to die!"
"So what's it all about? What's it for? It's not possible. It's not possible that life could have been as senseless and sickening as this. And if it has really been as sickening and senseless as this why do I have to die, and die in agony? There's something wrong. Maybe I didn't live as I should have done?" came the sudden thought. "But how can that be when I did everything properly?" he wondered, instantly dismissing as a total impossibility the one and only solution to the mystery of life and death. ~ Leo Tolstoy

Why do you paint, Nona?"...

'I paint first to honor God who paints the sunsets and oceans and human hearts. And second, I paint so I don't get cranky like so many of the old people in this world. ~ Kimberly Stuart

Most of the time, we're loved for what we can do rather than for who we are. It's not such a bad thing, being loved for what you can do.'
'But the other is better.'
'Better. I hate to say better, but it is. If someone loves you for what you can do then it's flattering, but why do you love them? If someone loves you for who you are then they have to know you, which means you have to know them. ~ Ann Patchett

Only people who've been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I'm as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T. S. Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don't want to. Like that lovely pair we just met." He sighs and twirls the long slender pencil in his hand. "Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas-- none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't. With those women--I should've just let it slide, or else called Miss Saeki and let her handle it. She would have given them a smile and smoothed things over. But I just can't do "do that. I say things I shouldn't, do things I shouldn't do. I can't control myself. That's one of my weak points. Do you know why that's a weak point of mine?"
"'Cause if you take every single person who lacks much imagination seriously, there's no end to it," I say. ~ Haruki Murakami