Quotes About Chaos

Tokyo's like a huge pinball machine. The first time you're there, and you don't understand what's going on, it's like 'ding ding ding ding ding' everywhere. The lights are changing, the neon lights are moving.

There is no magic formula, no step-by-step method for bringing the hydras that are laying waste to our societies under control.

It's not that I believe everything happens for a reason. It's just that... I just think that some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic. It's the universe's way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. It's how life is.

It's just that...I just think that some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic. It's the universe's way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. It's how life is.

in the chaos of war, I would have looked simply small, and therefore neither a promise nor a threat.

Will you calm down for a minute, you psycho chicken, and tell me what the hell is going on?

The history of Mélusine is like a massacre in a lunatic asylum, patients and wardens turning on each other, turning on themselves, and turn and turn about.

Grief is like being strapped to a bad fairground ride you never paid to go on.

terrible mess of things," Molly told him. "And I

Now the world seemed to her to have become so complex that its problems defied solution. There was only a chaos of conflicts of interest; the whole thing filled her with a sense of futility.

When you have ADHD your home reflects our thought. disorganized and in disoray. And like with a disorganized house. you can only appologize for your disorganized brian so many time before it becomes exhausting.

People were so scared of telling the truth because the truth was chaotic and complicated and decidedly uncool, but uncool was the way I rolled. Or it would be if I used tired old phrases like 'That's the way I roll', which I so don't.

Das ist so ein dichterischer Unsinn – die Reihenfolge der Tage. Es gibt keinerlei Reihenfolge, die Tage kommen, wann es ihnen passt, manchmal auch ein paar auf einmal. Es kommt auch vor, dass ein Tag lange nicht kommt. Dann lebt man in die Leere, begreift nichts und ist recht krank. Und andere Leute auch, sind auch krank, aber sie halten den Mund.

New York makes one think of the collapse of civilization, about Sodom and Gomorrah, the end of the world. The end wouldn't come as a surprise here. Many people already bank on it.

I feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm. I think that art has something to do with an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction.

The burden of deciding when to launch something is on the maker, not a marketer. If something is launched or a bug is fixed, data is instantly collected about how it's used, which serves as the basis to make quick revisions. There are no big schedules, few big plans, and no enforced mechanisms for coordination. It sounds like chaos, and it is. But if everyone understood chaos and perhaps liked the uncertainty, they would find freedom and opportunity.

today is a good day for murder love hatred sex violence drugs revisionist attitudes anarchy of the sense letters and the like teatime exists in the MinD snarling underground day addiction

Chaos is not randomness. Chaos refers to extreme sensitivity to initial conditions. If we change the initial point by a little bit in a chaotic system, we end up on different paths. Many chaotic systems are completely deterministic. If you know the current state, then you know all future states. When we speak of randomness, we often mean the exact opposite: complete unpredictability. The next flip of the coin does not depend in any way on the current flip of the coin.

I suspect this is all gonna end in screaming and drowning

I'll wager I would have screwed things up regardless. But. . .can you imagine those poor bastards grappling their prey, leaping over the rails, swords in hand, screaming, 'Your cats! Give us all your gods-damned cats!

In the glass burrow beneath their feet, the flames began to rise. First the flames, and then the screams

Every broken lunatic needed a theme song.

This was no game of thrones where generals sacrificed and maneuvered on the backs of their soldiers; this was the most primal sort of conflict—Odin's weather, the red chaos of slaughter—where men stood breast-to-breast and shield-to-shield, and dealt the same blows they took in kind.

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