We live in a rainbow of chaos.
In order to master the unruly torrent of life the learned man meditates, the poet quivers, and the political hero erects the fortress of his will.
In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.
Chaos is the score upon which reality is written.
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored; dies before thy uncreating word: thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall; and universal darkness buries all.
Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds.
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned.
Pandemonium did not reign; it poured.
To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.