For disorder obstructs: besides, it doth disgust life, distract the appetities, and yield no true relish to the senses.

For Pleasure, Delight, Peace and Felicity live in method and temperance.

In such misfortunes my Mother was of an heroic spirit, in suffering patiently when there was no remedy, and being industrious where she thought she could help.

But if our sex would but well consider and rationally ponder, they will perceive and find that it is neither words nor place that can advance them, but worth and merit.

For disorder obstructs: besides, it doth disgust life, distract the appetities, and yield no true relish to the senses.

My other brother, the Lord Lucas, who was heir to my father's estate, and as it were the father to take care of us all, is not less valiant than they were, although his skill in the discipline of war was not so much, not being bred therein.

A rude nature is worse than a brute nature by so much more as man is better than a beast: and those that are of civil natures and genteel dispositions are as much nearer to celestial creatures as those that are rude and cruel are to devils.

First, they were bred when I was not capable to observe or before I was born; likewise the breeding of men is of a different manner from that of women.

My mother was a good mistress to her servants, taking care of them in their sicknesses, not sparing any cost she was able to bestow for their recovery.

Marriage is the grave or tomb of wit.

And though my Lord hath lost his estate and been banished out of his country, yet neither despised poverty nor pinching necessity could make him break the bonds of friendship or weaken his loyal duty.

And though I might have learnt more wit and advanced my understanding by living in a Court, yet being dull, fearful and bashful, I neither heeded what was said or practised, but just what belonged to my loyal duty and my own honest reputation.

Indeed, I was so afraid to dishonour my friends and family by my indiscreet actions, that I rather chose to be accounted a fool, than to be thought rude or wanton.

As for plenty, we had not only for necessity, conveniency and decency, but for delight and pleasure to superfluity.

Indeed I had not much wit, yet I was not an idiot - my wit was according to my years.

For I, hearing my Lord's estate amongst many more estates was to be sold, and that the wives of the owners should have an allowance therefrom, it gave me hopes I should receive a benefit thereby.

Not because they were servants were we so reserved, for many noble persons are forced to serve through necessity, but by reason the vulgar sort of servants are as ill bred as meanly born, giving children ill examples and worse counsel.

Not that I am ashamed of my mind or body, my birth or breeding, my actions or fortunes, for my bashfulness is in my nature, not for any crime.

And not only my own brothers and sisters agreed so but my brothers and sisters in law; and their children, although but young, had the like agreeable natures and affectionate dispositions.

Indeed I did not stand as a beggar at the Parliament door, for I never was at the Parliament-House, nor stood I ever at the door as I do know or can remember; not as a petitioner I am sure.

As for our garments, my Mother did not only delight to see us neat and cleanly, fine and gay, but rich and costly: maintaining us to the heighth of her estate, but not beyond it.

As for my brothers, of whom I had three, I know not how they were bred.

Indeed I was so afraid to dishonour my friends and family by my indiscreet actions that I rather chose to be accounted a fool than to be thought rude or wanton.

Unless an entire row of people got up in the middle of a performance and left the theater in disgust, I felt as though I hadn't done my job.

Sameness is the mother of disgust, variety the cure.

For disorder obstructs: besides, it doth disgust life, distract the appetities, and yield no true relish to the senses.

All disgust is originally disgust at touching.

The office of drama is to exercise, possibly to exhaust, human emotions. The purpose of comedy is to tickle those emotions into an expression of light relief; of tragedy, to wound them and bring the relief of tears. Disgust and terror are the other points of the compass.

Quite a lot of our contemporary culture is actually shot through with a resentment of limits and the passage of time, anger at what we can't do, fear or even disgust at growing old.

Man thrives where angels would die of ecstasy and where pigs would die of disgust.

All is disgust when a man leaves his own nature and does what is unfit.

If there is a God, the phrase that must disgust him is - holy war.

Nevertheless the passions, whether violent or not, should never be so expressed as to reach the point of causing disgust; and music, even in situations of the greatest horror, should never be painful to the ear but should flatter and charm it, and thereby always remain music.

The time will come when it will disgust you to look in the mirror.

Nothing more strongly arouses our disgust than cannibalism, yet we make the same impression on Buddhists and vegetarians, for we feed on babies, though not our own.

Love turns, with a little indulgence, to indifference or disgust; hatred alone is immortal.

The people of the future will say, meat-eaters in disgust and regard us in the same way that we regard cannibals and cannibalism.

If ever a man and his wife, or a man and his mistress, who pass nights as well as days together, absolutely lay aside all good breeding, their intimacy will soon degenerate into a coarse familiarity, infallibly productive of contempt or disgust.

The greatest pleasures are only narrowly separated from disgust.

The vine bears three kinds of grapes: the first of pleasure, the second of intoxication, the third of disgust.

Ned made a tremendous rattling, at which Bullet took fright, broke his bridle, and dashed off in grand style; and would have stopped all farther negotiations by going home in disgust, had not a traveller arrested him and brought him back; but Kit did not move.

I am unable to understand how a man of honor could take a newspaper in his hands without a shudder of disgust.

Any newspaper, from the first line to the last, is nothing but a web of horrors, I cannot understand how an innocent hand can touch a newspaper without convulsing in disgust.

I have got this obsessive compulsive disorder where I have to have everything in a straight line, or everything has to be in pairs.

Narrative identity takes part in the story's movement, in the dialectic between order and disorder.

Simulated disorder postulates perfect discipline; simulated fear postulates courage; simulated weakness postulates strength.

There is a quality even meaner than outright ugliness or disorder, and this meaner quality is the dishonest mask of pretended order, achieved by ignoring or suppressing the real order that is struggling to exist and to be served.

If we ask a vague question, such as, 'What is poetry?' we expect a vague answer, such as, 'Poetry is the music of words,' or 'Poetry is the linguistic correction of disorder.'

I'm interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos, especially activity that appears to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom.