Balance is not symmetry — don't confuse symmetry with balance.

Balance is a dynamic, never dull process.

Balance is natural over the long run — what you lose on the swings you gain on the roundabouts

Balance is the passion of freedom.

Chaos is what erupts when he-who-lives-in-a-glass-house invites he-who-is-without-sin for dinner.

Chaos is is, in its positive guise, possibility itself, the source of ideas, the mysterious realm of gestation and birth.

Chaos is is, as the unknown, symbolically associated with the feminine. This is partly because all the things we have come to know were born, originally, of the unknown, just as all beings we encounter were born of mothers.

Chaos is is, along with order, the components of the eternal, transcendent environment of the living.

Clutter is found in so many shapes and sizes. We can find it on our kitchen tables, under our beds, in our cars, and in our heads.

Clutter is a weight that has built on top of you so gradually, you don't even realize anymore that it is holding you down.

Clutter is the disease of American writing. We are a society strangling in unnecessary words, circular constructions, pompous frills and meaningless jargon.

Habit is the invisible architecture of daily life.

Habit is that into which uncertainty disappears.

Habit is the second nature which destroys the first.

Habit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.