Quotes About Disarray

Thus there is in the life of a collector a dialectical tensions between the poles of disorder and order.

He looked like a butler dressed by his four-year-old daughter—a mishmash of good intentions and ill design. And there I was, an unshaven, rumpled page of discarded poetry, extending a hand and smiling, no doubt wolfishly.

chaos is a necessary step in the organization of one's universe

This is that moment in the hangover in which you discover that your keys are in your hat, the cat is in the sink, and you attempted late the previous night to make stew out of a pot holder. Things are in the wrong place. Religion is in the box where science used to be. Politics is on the shelf where you thought you left science the previous afternoon. Entertainment seems to have been knocked over and spilled on everything.

The guy probably didn't want anything, at least not anything that would make sense to someone with a normal brain. People who did this sort of thing just sort of went bug-fuck. Something in the brain shorted out, blew a fuse, whatever.

"We've taken the world apart," she says, "but we have no idea what to do with the pieces…"

After Monday and Tuesday even the calendar says W T F.

So basically your plan is to flail about helplessly.

It looked like his ponytail had revolted against him," said Bramble.

I drove home in a State of Utter: utterly startled, utterly confused, utterly flummoxed.

The rest of the place was ransacked, a word for something that is fun to do to someone else's room, but no fun to have done to yours.

There's a lot that doesn't make sense

The disarray of the convention seemed only to grow as the spectacle careened to a close. McGovern had trouble finding a vice-presidental nominee, finally settling on Senator Thomas Eagleton of Missouri, a relative unknown. But the delegates then proceeded to advance thirty-nine additional candidates for the number two slot, including Mao Tse-tung, Archie Bunker, and Martha Mitchell, the outspoken wife of Nixon's campaign manager.

Her mind was all disorder. The past, present, future, every thing was terrible.

chicken remains, wads of paper towels, empty soup cans, lunch-meat wrappers, and God knows what else.

Nothing will make a place feel unlike home like chaos.

A big gloomy space was piled with bags, boxes, suitcases, parcels, umbrellas. There were a few shelves but no apparent order. Some of the bags seemed to have been left where they had been dropped. It was the sort of place horror-film directors dream of, or playwrights of the absurd, a place of the soul, in limbo.

almost every president, almost every Congress, and almost every director of central intelligence since the 1960s has proved incapable of grasping the mechanics of the CIA. Most have left the agency in worse shape than they found it. Their failures have handed future generations, in the words of President Eisenhower, "a legacy of ashes." We are back where we began sixty years ago, in a state of disarray.

You look in my room and it looks neat enough, but if you dared to look under my bed or in my closet, oh what a mess!

I clutched at the brow. The mice in my interior had now got up an informal dance and were buck-and-winging all over the place like a bunch of Nijinskys.

We're all alike when we get bustled. We don't know what we're doing, and by the time we've put our hands up and got into shape, why, it's all over, and there you are. Don't you worry yourself, sir.

Time stood still. Then… pandemonium.

Years vanish. Months collapse. Time is like a tall building made of playing cards. It seems orderly until a strong gust of wind comes along and blows the whole thing skyward. Imagine it: an entire deck of cards soaring like a flock of birds.

Chaos, when left alone, tends to multiply.