Nay, a tumblelog.

The Light of humane minds is Perspicuous Words, but by exact definitions first snuffed, and purged from ambiguity; Reason is the Pace; Encrease of Science, the Way; and the Benefit of man-kind, the End.

Other things equal, human beings enjoy the exercise of their realized capacities (their innate or trained abilities), and this enjoyment increases the more the capacity is realized, or the greater its complexity.

Can we work ourself into a state of abject panic by trying to imagine the infinite numbers of years, the infinite folds of dark velvet (stuff their dryness into your mouth), in a word the infinite past, which extends on the minus side of the day of our birth? We cannot. Why? For the simple reason that we have already gone through eternity, have already non-existed once and have discovered that this néant holds no terrors whatever. What we are now trying (unsuccessfully) to do is to fill the abyss we have safely crossed with terrors borrowed from the abyss in front, which abyss is borrowed itself from the infinite past. Thus we live in a stocking which is in the process of being turned inside out, without our ever knowing for sure to what phase of the process our moment of consciousness corresponds.

Tomorrow you’ll be brave, you say? Fool! Dive today From the cliff of what you know into what you can’t know.

You fear the rocks? Better men than you have died on them; Dying on Love’s rocks is nobler than a life of death.

…most of these comrades who I gauged to be more brilliant than I have gone on to become distinguished mathematicians. Still, from the perspective of thirty or thirty-five years, I can state that their imprint upon the mathematics of our time has not been very profound. They’ve all done things, often beautiful things, in a context that was already set out before them, which they had no inclination to disturb. Without being aware of it, they’ve remained prisoners of those invisible and despotic circles which delimit the universe of a certain milieu in a given era. To have broken these bounds they would have had to rediscover in themselves that capability which was their birthright, as it was mine: the capacity to be alone.

The wise man lets go of all results, whether good or bad, and is focused on the action alone. Yoga is skill in actions.

What you see of me is only What you know of yourself

Theory and practice sometimes clash. And when that happens, theory loses. Every single time.

Para que el arte resucite se requerirá que el artista se presuma artesano y no genio.

For art to be resurrected it will require the artist to think of himself as an artisan and not a genius.

…it will catalyze a Crisis. In retrospect, the spark might seem as ominous as a financial crash, as ordinary as a national election, or as trivial as a Tea Party. It could be a rapid succession of small events in which the ominous, the ordinary, and the trivial are commingled.

Please do not understand me too quickly.

Seeing this moment as a perfect moment is always a choice.