Quotes About Gibberish

What we call chaos is just pat­terns we haven't rec­og­nized. What we call ran­dom is just pat­terns we can't de­ci­pher. What we can't un­der­stand we call non­sense. What we can't read we call gib­ber­ish.

Her soliloquy crystallized itself into little fragmentary phrases emerging suddenly from the turbulence of her thought, particularly when she had to exert herself in any way, either to move, to count money, or to choose a turning. To know the truth--to accept without bitterness-- those, perhaps, were the most articulate of her utterances, for no one could have made head or tail of the queer gibberish murmured in front of the statue of Francis, Duke of Bedford...

If a poet writes in gibberish, his soul yet understands.

Personally, I'd like to see the word genre taken out back and shot, a bullet in the back of its head, if it's going to be so overloaded with meanings it's just gibberish skewed to self-serving doublethink.

You know that thing where you repeat a word over and over until it just sounds like utter gibberish? That's what doing a day of press on a film is like. Ten interviews in a row, all asking pretty much the same questions until you find yourself giving pretty much the same answers.

You speak baby gibberish?' asked Jack. 'Fluently. The adult-education center ran a course, and I have a lot of time on my hands.' 'So what did he say?' 'I don't know.' 'I thought you said you spoke gibberish?' 'I do. But your baby doesn't. I think he's speaking either pre-toddler nonsense, a form of infact burble or an obscure dialect of gobbledygook. In any event, I can't understand a word he's saying.' 'Oh.

There was an aluminum awning over the office door. On the door itself were little plastic letters arranged in slots to spell out a message. The message was: NU MISH BOOT ZUP KO. Gibberish but high-quality gibberish.

The gentleman has eaten no small quantity of flapdoodle in his lifetime." "What's that, O'Brien?" replied I … "Why, Peter," rejoined he, "it's the stuff they feed fools on." —P. Simple, Marryat

No sooner had the town dropped back than all sort of stuff and nonsense, as is usual with us, began scrawling itself along both sides of the road: tussocks, fir trees, low skimpy stands of young pines, charred trunks of old ones, wild heather, and similar gibberish.

There was something about animals and babies that causes competent and sane adults to be reduced to a state of speaking pure gibberish. Normally,