My health, which had ever been feeble, was endangered by this state of chaos.
There all had been matter and chaos, here all was mind and a will to find a way out of confusion.
Here was a splendid end to chaos and blind wrestling with life.
He dared not stir, for all the world seemed to be dissolving into chaos.
A maid was there, and the furniture might have stood as a type of chaos.
A musician might extract some harmony from this chaos of noises, this jumble of sounds.
On she went, down, down, through a darkness that was chaos lit by lightning.
As I said at first, all things were originally a chaos in which there was no order or proportion.
The elements of this chaos were arranged by the Creator, and out of them he made the world.
Or, how could there have been motion in the chaos when as yet time was not?