Quotes About Chaos

Trying to maintain order during a legalized gang brawl involving 80 toughs with a little whistle, a hanky and a ton of prayer.

Quos [or Quem] deus vult perdere prius dementat [Those whom God wishes to destroy, he first makes mad].

There are no forms in nature. Nature is a vast, chaotic collection of shapes. You as an artist create configurations out of chaos. You make a formal statement where there was none to begin with. All art is a combination of an external event and an internal event… I make a photograph to give you the equivalent of what I felt. Equivalent is still the best word.

Though everything is a mess, all is well. Strange paradox, to be sure. But, tragically, most people never get to see that all is well because they are asleep. They are having a nightmare.

Time: the most violent war engine of all.

There is only chance in this world, chance and physics.

An avalanche descends onto the city. A hurricane. Teacups drift off shelves. Paintings slip off nails. In another quarter second, the sirens are inaudible. Everything is inaudible. The roar becomes loud enough to separate membranes in the middle ear.

The entropy of a closed system never decreases.

total entropy of any system, said Dr. Hauptmann, will decrease only if the entropy of another system will increase. Nature demands symmetry.

her shoes. The world seems to sway gently back and forth, as though the town is drifting lightly away. As though back onshore, all of France is left to bite its fingernails and flee and stumble and weep and wake to a numb, gray dawn, unable to believe what is happening. Who do the roads

The fires pool and strut; they flow up the sides of the ramparts like tides; they splash into alleys, over rooftops, through a carpark. Smoke chases dust; ash chases smoke. A newsstand floats, burning.

The total entropy of any system, said Dr. Hauptmann, will decrease only if the entropy of another system will increase. Nature demands symmetry. Ordnung muss sein.

Doors soar away from their frames. Bricks transmute into powder. Great distending clouds of chalk and earth and granite spout into the sky. All twelve bombers have already turned and climbed and realigned above the Channel before roof slates blown into the air finish falling into the streets.

The mob, infuriated by the assassination, went berserk. They burned down the Senate House

The cruelty and confusion that the proscription brought about was widespread

The birds fly in the wrong places and there are too many stars in the sky.

Emotions which are quickly lost in the noise and chaos of the city fester around the village square, driving people to psychosis and violence.

It seems like the chaos of this world is accelerating, but so is the beauty in the consciousness of more and more people.

I think people mistakenly get their chaos muddled up with their creativity. Provided you know what your issues are, they're not going to go away.

The Great War proved how confused the world is. Depression is proving it again.

I think that's what art is about: to provoke you. It helps me make sense of a senseless universe because I become the god of the story. I create it, and I see it in all its lineaments in my own way and can control it - in a world in which everything else is out of control.

Order and disorder, form and formless must have profound psychological roots, nervous roots.

There is a psychology of Bombay.

Human life itself may be almost pure chaos, but the work of the artist is to take these handfuls of confusion and disparate things, things that seem to be irreconcilable, and put them together in a frame to give them some kind of shape and meaning.