Achilles absent was Achilles still!
To forget one's purpose is the commonest form of stupidity.
His mind was like a soup dish, wide and shallow; it could hold a small amount of nearly anything, but the slightest jarring spilled the soup into somebody's lap
One day I was counting the cats and I absent-mindedly counted myself.
I'm not good at remembering things, in general.
I'm sure a psychologist would see something highly significant in how absent-minded I am. I mean I'd forget my head if it wasn't attached to my neck by muscles, ligaments and my esophagus.
Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.
I never claimed to be a low-maintenance gal, but when I'm writing, it's particularly challenging. I lose things constantly: my watch, my glasses, my papers, my mind.
I get in that zone, even if I'm relaxing or whatever, where I just zone out. I don't even hear anybody. You could ask me a question five times, and I don't even hear it.
An artist is always thinking of something else. My father was like that. He had this feeling of abstraction, and I do, too.
I am a quick study - I can memorize a script in an hour - but I can't remember a name three seconds. I've even forgotten my wife's name on occasion.
I don't even know my own phone number.
I don't really dream, I space out during the day - that's one of my problems wonder off when someone's talking to me. I can't remember any dreams in my life. There's so much strange in real life that it often seems like a dream.
You know, it's one thing about intellectuals, they prove that you can be absolutely brilliant and have no idea what's going on.
You're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk.
When I was younger, I used to bite my nails so bad. I used to play sports; I played, like, every sport. I would be playing soccer, and I'd be in the middle of the field just zoned out, biting my nails, and I'd, like, miss the ball going past me.
I'm just a black hole for stuff. No one should ever hand me anything, because I get so easily distracted. I'll be like, 'Oh, look, something shiny!' I'm glad I never learned how to drive. I would be really dangerous.
We seem, as it were, to have conquered and peopled half the world in a fit of absence of mind.
I like to put my iPad on the window and leave it there for however long the journey is, so that I'm staring out, and it's staring out. We're kind of staring out together. It's very poetic to me, watching that absent-minded passing of time. You realize how much you've taken in. What is left of that memory of you staring out of the window for an hour? It's all on the iPad.
There have been times when I've shaved twice in the same morning because I've forgotten I've shaved already.
I always have trouble remembering three things: faces, names, and - I can't remember what the third thing is.
Whenever Percy stopped by to see [Annabeth], she was so lost in thought that the conversation went something like this: Percy: 'Hey, how's it going?' Annabeth: 'Uh, no thanks.' Percy: 'Okay...have you eaten anything today?' Annabeth: 'I think Leo is on duty. Ask him.' Percy: 'So, my hair is on fire.' Annabeth: 'Okay, in a while.
One night I was driving and so infatuated with dipping French fries into my milk shake that I drove right through a stop sign. The cop who pulled me over had no mercy.
I can remember weird things from way back, but not what I had for breakfast.
When a Pueblo Indian does not feel in the right mood, he stays away from the men's council. When an ancient Roman stumbled on the threshold as he left the house, he gave up his plans for the day. This seems to us senseless, but under primitive conditions of life such an omen inclines one at least to be cautious. When I am not in full control of myself, my bodily movements may be under a certain constraint; my attention is easily distracted; I am somewhat absent-minded. As a result I knock against something, stumble, let something fall, or forget something.
