Quotes About Clutter

Others just liked having their useless shit around in the place where they spent most of their time.

Dentro dela há tudo menos silêncio.

I have a living room full of clothes. It's insane.

I had never heard of it, but then I do not clutter my mind with trivialities such as tales of ancient sunken cities and such. They take up room that might be more usefully occupied by facts and theories related to solving crimes. I recall how Watson was shocked when he learned that I could not name the planets, and had no idea that they numbered eight. But really, of what use is such information? None.

on the living room floor. She's

I believe your trouble, which is a congestion, has come from having things stored away. Congestion of things causes congestion in the body.

I've always been a bit of a decorator. I think if I wasn't a singer I'd probably be in stage setting or interior design or something. I like clutter and I'm quite visually greedy. I can't have things to be plain I have to have things looking interesting... maybe I'm just a frustrated interior designer stuck in a singing career.

When you hurry, time is filled to bursting, like a badly-arranged drawer in which you have stuffed different things without any attempt at order.

Like a lot of fellows around here, I have a furniture problem. My chest has fallen into my drawers.

I have a room, which is in my brain, and it's very, very, very... untidy! There is stuff fallen everywhere. There are some very important ideas next to dome very silly ones. There is a bottle of wine that was opened five years ago, and there is a lunch I haven't eaten from last summer. There are faces of children who are going to die but don't have to. There's my fathers face telling me to tidy up my room. So that's what I'm doing - tidying my room.

It's easy to forget things you don't need anymore.

There was a way that you could sleep properly when a house had been straightened up, when all the Ranger Ricks were put up on the shelf and the toys were put in the plastic box and tomorrow's clothes were laid out neatly on a chair. But then again, when everything was left out all over the floor and the dishes were still in the sink, there was a way that you could dream.

When one reads hurriedly and nervously, having in mind written tests and examinations, one's brain becomes encumbered with a lot of bric-a-brac for which there seems to be little use.

Some of the most untidy writers have also been the most productive. Iris Murdoch, for instance, wrote a good 30 books in a house strewn with rubbish.

I call your head a bad neighborhood because your head is full of a lot of babbling, conflicting information; most of it not yours, and most of it really bad.

I put Post-It notes everywhere to remind me of everything. I stick a ton of them on my computer monitor, telephone, and wallet. The problem now is that there are so many of them that my mind has blocked them all out. So I now need Post-It notes to remind me to look at my Post-It notes.

I was forever late, in a rush, my foot heavy on the pedal, haunted by something I'd forgotten to do, to pay, to sign. I ate on the run, balanced hot coffee while shifting in traffic, and dreamed of being organized, believing I could be if only I had the right containers.

Our brain is so full of nonsense there is no room for common sense.

It really is a shame that through our sad neglect of wonders, hopefulness, and trust we allowed so much clutter and debris to build up in the space that once connected us to Diamond Green.

His attitude to the clutter of daily life was of a piece with his strategy for dealing with social demands. Unless you are kicking yourself once a month for throwing something away, you are not throwing enough away, he said. Everything that didn't seem to Amos obviously important he chucked, and thus what he saved acquired the interest of objects that have survived a pitiless culling.

disordering the attic

In the modern view, the pitched roof was itself a "dead concept," but equally unhealthy were all those other dead concepts that got stored underneath the gable, in the attic. For there is where the ghosts of our past reside: the bric-abrac and mementos that a lifetime collects; the love letters, photographs, and memories that clutter an attic and threaten to bear us back in time.

If you've had something for more than six months, and it's still not repaired, it's clutter.

I'm a hoarder, but then, when it all gets too much, I turn into a ruthless chucker. I'm very good at clearing out and giving stuff away. But I'm equally skilled at shoving things in a cupboard, shutting the door, and calling that 'cleared up.'