Beautiful.structures Quotes

We are like ignorant shepherds living on a site where great civilizations once flourished. The shepherds play with the fragments that pop up to the surface, having no notion of the beautiful structures of which they were once a part.

The knowledge feels grotesque in my mind but I grasp it and hold it tight, etching it deep into my memory. Why am I doing this? Why do I want to know the names and functions of all the beautiful structures I've spent my years violating? Because I don't deserve to keep them anonymous. I want the pain of knowing them and by extension myself: who and what I really am.

Blue had read that the Temple of Clearsight was the most beautiful structure in the world. He knew that it had been built by Clearsight’s grandchildren, then partially destroyed hundreds of years later during the war with the LeafWings, and then moved to be reconstructed here, in the heart of Wasp Hive, where it could be kept safe.

Why am I doing this? Why do I want to know the names and functions of all the beautiful structures I've spent my years violating? Because I don't deserve to keep them anonymous. I want the pain of knowing them, and by extension myself: who and what I really am. Maybe with that scalpel, red hot and sterilized in tears, I can begin to carve out the rot inside me.

The wood wide web has been mapped, traced, monitored, and coaxed to reveal the beautiful structures and finely adapted languages of the forest network. We have learned that mother trees recognize and talk with their kin, shaping future generations. In addition, injured tress pass their legacies on to their neighbors, affecting gene regulation, defense chemistry, and resilience in the forest community. These discoveries have transformed our understanding of trees from competitive crusaders of the self to members of a connected, relating, communicating system. Ours is not the only lab making these discoveries-there is a burst of careful scientific research occurring worldwide that is uncovering all manner of ways that trees communicate with each other above and below ground.

...their relationship was a point of near-constant discussion in Night Vale, all of their imperfections and faults, which made them individuals worth loving. They had built those faults into the usual messy, comfortable, patched-up, beautiful structure that any functioning long-term relationship ended up being.

[23] Our situation is like that at a festival.* Sheep and cattle are driven to it to be sold, and most people come either to buy or to sell, while only a few come to look at the spectacle of the festival, to see how it is proceeding and why, and who is organizing it, and for what purpose. [24] So also in this festival of the world. Some people are like sheep and cattle and are interested in nothing but their fodder; for in the case of those of you who are interested in nothing but your property, and land, and slaves, and public posts, all of that is nothing more than fodder. [25] Few indeed are those who attend the fair for love of the spectacle, asking, ‘What is the universe, then, and who governs it? No one at all? [26] And yet when a city or household cannot survive for even a very short time without someone to govern it and watch over it, how could it be that such a vast and beautiful structure could be kept so well ordered by mere chance and good luck? [27] So there must be someone governing it. What sort of being is he, and how does he govern it? And we who have been created by him, who are we, and what were we created for? Are we bound together with him in some kind of union and interrelationship, or is that not the case?’ [28] Such are the thoughts that are aroused in this small collection of people; and from then on, they devote their leisure to this one thing alone, to finding out about the festival before they have to take their leave. [29] What comes about, then? They become an object of mockery for the crowd, just as the spectators at an ordinary festival are mocked by the traders; and even the sheep and cattle, if they had sufficient intelligence, would laugh at those who attach value to anything other than fodder!

With the web uncovered, the intricacies of the belowground alliance still remained a mystery to me, until I started my doctoral research in 1992. Paper birches, with their lush leaves and gossamer bark, seemed to be feeding the soil and helping their coniferous neighbors. But how? In pulling back the forest floor using microscopic and genetic tools, I discovered that the vast belowground mycelial network was a bustling community of mycorrhizal fungal species. These fungi are mutualistic. They connect the trees with the soil in a market exchange of carbon and nutrients and link the roots of paper birches and Douglas firs in a busy, cooperative Internet. When the interwoven birches and firs were spiked with stable and radioactive isotopes, I could see, using mass spectrometers and scintillation counters, carbon being transmitted back and forth between the trees, like neurotransmitters firing in our own neural networks. The trees were communicating through the web! I was staggered to discover that Douglas firs were receiving more photosynthetic carbon from paper birches than they were transmitting, especially when the firs were in the shade of their leafy neighbors. This helped explain the synergy of the pair’s relationship. The birches, it turns out, were spurring the growth of the firs, like carers in human social networks. Looking further, we discovered that the exchange between the two tree species was dynamic: each took different turns as “mother,” depending on the season. And so, they forged their duality into a oneness, making a forest. This discovery was published by Nature in 1997 and called the “wood wide web.” The research has continued unabated ever since, undertaken by students, postdoctoral researchers, and other scientists, with a myriad of discoveries about belowground communication among trees. We have used new scientific tools, as they are invented, along with our curiosity and dreams, to peer into the dark world of the soil and illuminate the social network of trees. The wood wide web has been mapped, traced, monitored, and coaxed to reveal the beautiful structures and finely adapted languages of the forest network. We have learned that mother trees recognize and talk with their kin, shaping future generations. In addition, injured trees pass their legacies on to their neighbors, affecting gene regulation, defense chemistry, and resilience in the forest community. These discoveries have transformed our understanding of trees from competitive crusaders of the self to members of a connected, relating, communicating system. Ours is not the only lab making these discoveries—there is a burst of careful scientific research occurring worldwide that is uncovering all manner of ways that trees communicate with each other above and below ground.

What then, in the last analysis, is wrong with such a single-minded presentation of the American Revolution as the national coming of age? . . . What I find objectionable about this dominant motif in our historical fiction is, first of all, that it has been prompted by such conservative motives: by defensive nostalgia, by elitism, by national chauvinism, by a sense of our moral superiority as a people, and by a desire to de-revolutionize the American Revolution. Presenting our Revolution as the national rite of passage made it seem historically unique and non-replicable. One comes of age only once. Therefore, having had our revolution . . . we need not have another one—ever again. Besides, they declared, it was a political revolution, and in no respect a social revolution. Moreover, it provided us with such a beautifully structured society, as well as such an ideal frame of government, that we will never require anything more than minor adjustments—some occasional fine-tuning.

In Discourses II.15, Epictetus gives this parable of men attending a fair: “What then is the universe,” they ask, “and who governs it? No one? Yet how can it be that, while it is impossible for a city or a household to remain even a very short time without someone to govern and care for it, nevertheless this great and beautiful structure should be kept in such orderly arrangement by sheer accident and chance? There must be, therefore, One who governs it.”3

I opened all the car’s doors and paced in circles around it. My shift at Eddie’s wasn’t for over two hours and I had no idea what I was going to do with that time. Everyone I knew was always bitching about how they wanted more free time and I wanted to shove them in their chests, hard, tell them how lucky they were that each of their days contained boring, beautiful structure.

He was sitting on the divan.Calm faced,a beautiful structure as if in white attire.just a white robe carelessly worn on his shoulder.A smoth smile enlighting the room.He,as if wandering in other world the body present as invitee.I stared at him just as I entered the room.I was stuck by the picture.Time passed.whatever was to be done went as per schedule.I was imprisoned by the handsome saint or perhaps a sage like man.He looked straight into my eyes.My eyes spoke out my rising desire.And again we exchanged our look....twice, thrice, so many times,as if the room was not so crowded, as if alone in a planet we stayed at two poles.Not a word his eyes uttered but a cool wind shivered into my femininity. And suddenly he was standing before me.He took my hand softly and said "let's go somewhere else and talk".He wore the same smile on his face.I followed him like a kid.The elevator took us to a small tidy room.white walls.a single bed wore white bedsheet, a small writing table and chair. We looked at each other."touch me"he said softly.I touched his maleness.A tough erected one,big.The fire spread inside my abdomen.----see how your desire is transmitted into me without uttering a word,stranger as we are to each other".

While the temples are—and were—beautiful structures, on this pilgrimage you are connecting to the temples as living sources of wisdom. Each temple is built on a ley line, which is a portal, or vortex, with direct access to information and wisdom. The blueprint of each temple, like the soul, has access to consciousness that is beyond a particular historical moment or era, giving

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