Best 923 quotes in «chaos quotes» category

A choice to listen to the chaos your mind creates or the whispers of intuitive wisdom from the heart.

A culture capable of imagining complexly is a humble culture. It acts, when it has to act, as late in the game as possibl, and as cautiously, because it knows its girth and the tight confines of the china shop it's blundering into. And it knows that no matter how well prepared it is -- no matter how ruthlessly it has held its projections up to intelligent scrutiny -- the place it is headed for is going to very different from the place it imagined. The shortfall between the imagined and the real, multiplied by the violence of one's intent, equals the evil one will do.

a finger pointing with particular aim too far from the goal in effect points at everything.

After tail spinning into chaos, one needs a bolt-hole, to resource and ‘challenge’ oneself, break free from the haunting constrictions, squirrel back into bouncy and buoyant surroundings and enjoy the many laugh-out-loud-moments of the day. As soon as one manages to wobble out of one’s shell, everything may click into place again and the radiance and glare of the bright side of life might show again. ("Imbroglio")

Afterward the Captain was to tell himself that in this one instant he knew everything. Actually, in a moment when a great but unknown shock is expected, the mind instinctively prepares itself by abandoning momentarily the faculty of surprise. In that vulnerable instant a kaleidoscope of half-guessed possibilities project themselves, and when the disaster has defined itself there is the feeling of having understood beforehand in some supernatural way.

A little manic was okay. A little manic paid the bills and got him up in the morning, made him magic when he needed it most.

All things need some degree of order; of substance, form and structure. Show me a storm or the most beautiful day without form, and I’ll show you chaos and dissonance that is not unlike a symphony of wailing scorched cats.

Always lists to be made, as if writing items in neat vertical rows might stave off randomness and chaos.

All the cops were tied up trying to maintain control, but it was already lost.

A multi-party system is a system in which multiple political parties run for national election thus turning it into a multi-party chaos.

A man without a filter, is chaos walking

...an age-old patter that seemed like chaos but was not...

Anarchists did not try to carry out genocide against the Armenians in Turkey; they did not deliberately starve millions of Ukrainians; they did not create a system of death camps to kill Jews, gypsies, and Slavs in Europe; they did not fire-bomb scores of large German and Japanese cities and drop nuclear bombs on two of them; they did not carry out a ‘Great Leap Forward’ that killed scores of millions of Chinese; they did not attempt to kill everybody with any appreciable education in Cambodia; they did not launch one aggressive war after another; they did not implement trade sanctions that killed perhaps 500,000 Iraqi children. In debates between anarchists and statists, the burden of proof clearly should rest on those who place their trust in the state. Anarchy’s mayhem is wholly conjectural; the state’s mayhem is undeniably, factually horrendous.

And don't go whining to God about it. It was pretty clear that there was no God up there, no kindly old gent looking down, keeping score in a notebook. You did good, you did bad, it didn't make any difference, did it? This one's going to heaven, this one's going to hell, this one's going to Disneyland. No. God wouldn't have let any of this shit happen. If you were going to believe in anything, then believe in the devil. He was much more real than God. Up there causing mischief. Laughing at the chaos he'd created.

And he knew something else as a social evolutionist that he might stress someday in his 'Every Change Is for the Worse' should he ever find time to write it: Gold knew that the most advanced and penultimate stage of a civilization was attained when chaos masqueraded as order, and he knew we were already there.

And I silently simmered in the chaos of my mind and heart.

APPLY WITHIN You once told me You wanted to find Yourself in the world - And I told you to First apply within, To discover the world within you. You once told me You wanted to save The world from all its wars - And I told you to First save yourself From the world, And all the wars You put yourself Through. APPLY WITHIN by Suzy Kassem

And this notion of the meaninglessness of our lives here began to enflame us. I took up the theme again that music and acting were good because they drove back chaos. Chaos was the meaninglessness of day-to-day life, and if we were to die now, our lives would have been nothing but meaninglessness.

An infinite, inscrutable blackness has annihilated sight! Where is our universe? All crumbled away from us; and we, adrift in chaos, may hearken to the gusts of homeless wind, that go sighing and murmuring about in quest of what was once a world!

-and then what happened?- I asked him, but I had no desire to know. Whatever it was, it has to be ugly.

And you know what? My kisses are mine. I don't have to explain them to anyone, I'll give them out as I see fit and to whomever I want. Like money. Except that everyone has kisses, they're much more democratic, and a lot more dangerous too, since they put us all on the same level. And if you did the same, if we all did the same, the world might be a little more chaotic but a lot more fun.

A peculiar sort of chaos looms beneath the pretense of peace.

A riverless silence made the air heavy.

Artists are agents of chaos. It is the artists job to encourage entropy, to promote chaos. Idols must be killed, icons crushed, beliefs shattered. It is the artists job to encourage legitimate, unadulterated, raw thought and emotion. Art that does nothing new, that simply fills an established role, is not art. It is a product. A stale, stagnant product of a disgustingly mundane process that has been done so much it is assumed mandatory. Little different than feces. The last thing the world needs is to get shittier.

Art is the only answer to chaos and the void.

At a time like this with damage and disorder everywhere, no tale is too absurd to be believed and even decent people seek something on which to vent their anger.

As happens so often in history at the dying of one age and the birth of another, an era of phenomenal ugliness, strife, and chaos was about to unfold.

As long as no one gets tired From hiding behind one’s self, Let’s keep on playing this silly game of pretend That we no longer fear what tomorrow hides And That our Yesterdays left us no aches in our cores Nor chaos in our minds … Let’s just pretend

A teď, když vstupoval do závěrečných fází svého aktivního života, začínal chápat, že pokud nedojde k nějaké nepředvídané souhře okolností, jeho život se nezmění. Byl oklamán. Odjakživa se domníval, že v jeho dospělosti jednou nastane čas jakéhosi stabilizovaného stavu, kdy se naučí využívat veškeré triky, jak řídit svůj život nebo jen jednoduše žít. Kdy vyřídí veškerou poštu a e-maily, všechny papíry bude mít v pořádku, knihy vyrovnané na policích podle abecedy, oblečení a boty v dobrém stavu v šatnících a v botníku, všechny věci na svých místech, kde je bude umět najít, Svou minulost včetně dopisů a fotografií roztříděnou v krabicích a šanonech, soukromý život usazený a poklidný, stejně jako bydlení a peníze. Za celé ty roky nikdy k žádnému podobnému urovnání nedošlo, stabilizovaného stavu nikdy nedosáhl, ale přesto nadále předpokládal, aniž by nad stavem věcí uvažoval, že je už na dosah chvíle, kdy po vynaloženém úsilí kýženého stavu dosáhne, že nastane okamžik, kdy jeho život bude přehledný a duše svobodná, a jeho dospělá existence bude moct náležitě začít. Ale nedlouho po narození Catriony, přibližně v době, kdy se seznámil s Darlene, se domníval, že situaci poprvé vidí v celé její nahotě: v den, kdy umře, bude mít na sobě ponožky, které nepůjdou do páru, v počítači bude mít hromadu nezodpovězených e-mailů a v brlohu, kterému říká domov, budou nadále košile s chybějícími manžetovými knoflíčky, selhávající světlo na chodbě, nezaplacené složenky, neuklizená půda, mrtvé mouchy, a kolem něho budou kamarádi čekající na odpověď a milenky, k nimž se nebude hlásit. Zapomnění, poslední slovo v uspořádání všech věcí, mu bude jedinou útěchou.

As melancholia replaced the jarring of my invention, I sat. Unable to breathe in the smog I had created, unable to stand on my betraying legs, unable to howl at the heavens over my sordid soul. In this inferno, I became paroxysmic, my self-hatred, superparamount, numbness dulling the agony of such a devilish act, An iron curtain fell upon the surrounding world, or at least what I had left of it to be owned by the laconic eclipse. All the angels fled, disowning my prayers, the lurid world backed away, leaving me forsaken and detached, I could no longer hear the bombings, hear them fall, my own fabrication, only the dead air that came after, the intense silence. Cynical and paralyzed, I realized I had purloined a portion of Hell and given it to the unwilling Earth, Punishing those I had no right to punish, judging those I had no reason to condemn, destroying cities I had never set foot in. This is how I became Death, the destroyer of Worlds.

A society is an organic system that develops spontaneously, governed by myriad interactions and adjustments that no human mind can pretend to understand. Just because we cannot capture its workings in verbal propositions does not mean it should be scrapped and reinvented according to the fashionable theories of the day. Such ham-fisted tinkering will only lead to unintended consequences, culminating in violent chaos.

As time moves on the line will blur. It will no longer seem to be the simplicity of good versus evil, but good versus fools who think they are good.

At the fringe edge of advancement it's a war of anarchy and chaos.

Avoid the mindless chaos that pervades vast swathes of society.

be a dog, be a jerk, be a devil, be a worst imaginable creature, but never be a good man, for being civilized in chaos is itself a chaos.

Backstage was chaos distilled into a very small space.

Below lies the dark core, that great iron ball beneath all things. Its compressed weight is fantastic; it is older than time itself. It is a vestige of the blackness that predates all existence, when a formless universe existed in a state of chaotic un-creation, lacking awareness even of itself.

Behind those happy eyes, you hide a mind that is terribly chaotic and that's what makes you, so beautiful.

Between chaos and our shoes wobbles, I tell you, the thinnest film!

Billions of years ago there were just blobs of protoplasm; now billions of years later here we are. So information has been created and stored in our structure. In the development of one person’s mind from childhood, information is clearly not just accumulated but also generated—created from connections that were not there before

But in the morning I would always rise and polish the surface of myself, a gleaming, confident young woman, an excellent student and good daughter starting her fourth year at the university, moving smoothly through the world, and even though inside the chaos scraped and railed I would push it into the crevices of the day so it could not be detected.

Brooding is more something I do when I'm working. I know so much more about sitting around worrying about a work project than I do about worrying about kids. This could just be a fact of life for older moms. We've worked and worked and worked and if we are lucky enough to finally have a child or two, we find ourselves suddenly catapulted into a most alien kind of chaos. Work is so much easier. Anyone will tell you that. To have a desk, where you have everything all lined up, and a schedule you more or less get to agree to. Work. I am a worker. This is so funny because I never really think of my work as work. I certainly never though of myself as having a career. Writing, work, this is just who I am. I am a person who sits at a desk and makes phone calls and taps at a computer keyboard and sips coffee and calls her mom at five. That I am anything better or smaller than that has come as sudden news to me. Brand new. News.

But isn't it enough that I just don't want it?" "No," said Fiona. "It isn't enough." "Why not?" "Well, if that was enough, if just saying no and not giving a reason was enough, where would we be? It would just be chaos.

But I was still determined to protect her. It might be the one good thing I would ever do in my life. I wondered if God would even notice.

But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and rom the walls of Heav'n Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn; here Nature first begins her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire As from her outmost works a broken foe With tumult less and with less hostile din,

But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing.

But when you’re a kid, it isn’t chaos. It’s just a heartbeat. Your house isn’t floating through space, it sits on the ground. Once you get old enough you start to see that color is just paint and doors are just wood. Then, at some point, that feeling of home vanishes entirely. And… that’s what I fear. That nothing will ever make me feel like I’m safe again. That once you leave home, you never get it back.

Call it order, call it chaos, it’s all in the brain.

‘Can’t you see what they are?’ I said. ‘They’re all dead.’

Chaos is complexity viewed through a reductionist filter.