Quotes
Authors
Philip J. Davis

"Blindness to the aesthetic element in mathematics is widespread and can account for a feeling that mathematics is dry as dust, as exciting as a telephone book... Contrariwise, appreciation of this element makes the subject live in a wonderful manner and burn as no other creation of the human mind seems to do."

Source : Philip J. Davis, Reuben Hersh, Elena Anne Marchisotto (1995). “The Mathematical Experience: Study Edition”, p.185, Springer Science & Business Media

Philip J. Davis

#Appreciation Quotes #Book Quotes #Dust Quotes

“The Law found more than it lost when Christ said, â€˜Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heavenâ€™ (Matthew 5:44-45). This most important commandment summarizes in a word the universal discipline of patience, since it does not allow us to do evil even to people who deserve it.”
“Photography is the easiest art, which perhaps makes it the hardest.”
“I like to see cats in movement. A galloping cat is a fine sight. See it cross the road in a streak, cursed by the drivers of motor cars and buses, dodging the butcher's bicycle, coming safe to the kerb and bellying under its home gate.”
“If I'm lucky, when I paint, first my patrons leave the room, then my dealers, and if I'm really lucky I leave too.”
“The technology of the time dictated the way things looked.”

Source : "Trumbull's Vision" by Jeff Greenwald, www.wired.com. January 01, 1997.
“Power does not reside in institutions, not even the state or large corporations. It is located in the networks that structure society.”
“Heroes do not dwell in a time of peace; heroes are hardened in a kiln against the sorrows. Their troubles sharpen the blade and make it gleaming. The glint becomes a brightness that is raised high on a hill, allowing women and men to see beyond themselves. For light swallows darkness. Truth buries death. Heroes are not born. They are filled by Music.”
“This cell belongs to a brain, and it is my brain, the brain of me who is writing; and the cell in question, and within it the atom in question, is in charge of my writing, in a gigantic minuscule game which nobody has yet described. It is that which at this instant, issuing out of a labyrinthine tangle of yeses and nos, makes my hand run along a certain path on the paper, mark it with these volutes that are signs: a double snap, up and down, between two levels of energy, guides this hand of mine to impress on the paper this dot, here, this one.”

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