Quotes About Chaos

In this acausal world, scientists are helpless. Their predictions become postdictions. Their equations become justifications, their logic, illogic. Scientists turn reckless and mutter like gamblers who cannot stop betting. Scientists are buffoons, not because they're rational but because the cosmos is irrational. Or perhaps it is not because the cosmos is irrational because they are rational. Who can say which, in an acausal world?

What we call the "future" is the condition of increasing mess; what we call the "past" is increasing tidiness.

Authority, when first detecting chaos at its heels, will entertain the vilest schemes to save its orderly facade.

Eve: All this riot and uproar, V... is this Anarchy? Is this the Land of Do-As-You-Please? V: No. This is only the land of take-what-you-want. Anarchy means without leaders, not without order. With anarchy comes an age or ordnung, of true order, which is to say voluntary order... this age of ordung will begin when the mad and incoherent cycle of verwirrung that these bulletins reveal has run its course... This is not anarchy, Eve. This is chaos.

The main thing that I learned about conspiracy theory, is that conspiracy theorists believe in a conspiracy because that is more comforting. The truth of the world is that it is actually chaotic. The truth is that it is not The Iluminati, or The Jewish Banking Conspiracy, or the Gray Alien Theory. The truth is far more frightening - Nobody is in control. The world is rudderless.

With so much chaos, someone will do something stupid. And when they do, things will turn nasty

This city is dying of rabies. Is the best I can do to wipe random flecks of foam from its lips?

Authority, when first detecting chaos at its heels, will entertain the vilest schemes to save its orderly facade but always order without justice, without love or liberty, which cannot long postpone their world's descent to pandemonium. Authority's collapse sends cracks through bedroom, boardroom, church and school alike. All misrule. Equality and Freedom are not luxuries to lightly cast aside. Without them, order cannot long endure before approaching depths beyond imagining.

This is not anarchy, Eve. This is chaos.

I can't move. My mind's like a dance hall fire, a crowd of terrified voices all screaming instructions at once.

All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.

Miracles. Events with astronomical odds of occurring like oxygen turning into gold. I've longed to witness such an event, and yet I neglect that in human coupling, millions upon millions of cells compete to create life for generation after generation until finally, your mother loves a man and out of that contradiction against unfathomable odds, it's you-only you-that emerged, to distill so specific a form from all that chaos. It's like turning air into gold. A miracle.

splashed amidst a pillow-fight of pigeons

It begs for a gospel of perseverance through inevitable failure... There is no antidote to the chaos of creative markets. Only the brute doggedness to endure it.

These realms of heated chaos and cool logic fused together in the great Greek tragedies as audiences followed a hero trying to impose order (the Apollonian urge) on whatever random fate threw his way (the Dionysian drive).

One of the floral arrangements swayed like a drunken sailor, then toppled, clattering to the floor.

Take it from me, Fate doesn't care most of the time.

Words are small shapes in the gorgeous chaos of the world.

How am I supposed to save the universe with all this noise?!

The whole universe tumbled in what seemed chaos, but he couldn't bring himself to use that word. The man who heard the land heard his own heart as if it were distant space struggling with its solar dust and clattering, its turbulence on a scale he couldn't comprehend.

The west, for Perkins's post-war generation, symbolized everything from the end of the rainbow to a last resort. Its vastness was double-edged, for chaos as well as freedom thrives on opportunity.

Countless houses were reduced to big piles of bricks and wood, which is sort of what houses are, anyway, but in a different order.

Suddenly everything finally made sense because, paradoxically, I finally accepted that it never would make sense. That's life. It's not all wrapped up with a tidy bow - it's crazy and disorganized and unpredictable, and so are the people who live it.

Was it possible to be numb with love while the world exploded in chaos?