Crest And Trough Quotes

We lived always in the stretch or sag of nerves, either on the crest or in the trough of waves of feeling.

What we see as death, empty space, or nothingness is only the trough between the crests of this endlessly waving ocean. It is all part of the illusion that there should seem to be something to be gained in the future, and that there is an urgent necessity to go on and on until we get it. Yet just as there is no time but the present, and no one except the all-and-everything, there is never anything to be gained—though the zest of the game is to pretend that there is.

Love so strong, without ebb and flow or crests and troughs, indeed lacking any sort of motion so that it had become invisible to him these seven years, part of the order of things outside his head which he had taken for granted.

She had learnt to wait for the changes and the help that life brings. Life is like the sea, sometimes you are in the trough of the wave, sometimes on the crest. When you are in the trough, you wait for the crest, and always, trough or crest, a mysterious tide bears you forward to an unseen, but certain shore. In

Know that birth and death are the crests and trough of One Wave.

It was as though he rode within the wave of time, sometimes in its trough, sometimes on a crest—and all around him the other waves lifted and fell, revealing and then hiding what they bore on their surface.

Struggling, despairing, Klein fought with his demon. All the new understanding and sense of redemption this fateful time had yielded had surged, in the course of this past day, to such a wave of thought and clarity that he had felt he would remain forever on the crest even while he was beginning to drop down. Now he was in the trough again, still fighting, still secretly hoping, but gravely injured. For one brief, glowing day he had succeeded in practicing the simple art known to every blade of grass. For one scant day he had loved himself, felt himself to be unified and whole, not split into hostile parts; he had loved himself and the world and God in himself, and everywhere he went he had met nothing but love, approval, and joy. If a robber had attacked him yesterday, or a policeman had arrested him, that too would have been approval, harmony, the smile of fate. And now, in the midst of happiness, he had reversed course and was cutting himself down again. He sat in judgment on himself while his deepest self knew that all judgment was wrong and foolish. The world, which for the span of one day had been crystal clear and wholly filled with divinity, once more presented a harsh and painful face; every object had its own meaning and every meaning contradicted every other." "He already knew that the choking feeling of dread would pass only if he stopped condemning and admonishing himself, if he stopped poking around in the old wounds. He knew that all pain, all stupidity, all evil became its opposite if he could recognize God in it, if he pursued it to its deepest roots, which extended far beyond weal and woe and good and evil. He knew that. But there was nothing to do about it; the evil spirit was in him, God was a word again, lovely but remote. He hated and despised himself, and this hatred came over him, when the time was ripe, as involuntary and inexorably as love and trustfulness at other times. And this was how it always must be. Again and again and again he would experience the grace and blessing, and again and again the accursed contrary.

life is like this record…. There are ups and downs… crests and troughs … and both are necessary in life to make a beautiful song…. But sometimes we get stuck up with some incidents in life and like the music record the incident keeps repeating itself in our minds…..

THE MAW OF THE OCEAN The obsidian seas heaved underneath the Dragon Wing, propelling the ship high in the air. There it teetered on the precipitous crest of a foam-capped swell before pitching forward and racing down the face of the wave into the black trough below. Billows of stinging mist

Some people enjoyed these wild swings. They crested and troughed, thrilled and wallowed, and came out strangely purified. I probably would have to fire Staci for her sensitivity, her excess. After all, she might go on like this her whole life. Or maybe, with all her yawning lows and staggering highs, she'd finally just get worn down. Maybe.

We surf the waves of capitalism, from crest to trough and back again, but the funny thing is that no matter how often we ride the wave, nobody notices that it's wet. When we are on the crest, we believe that we have climbed a mountain through our own virtuous efforts, and when we are in the trough, we believe that we have fallen into a pit through out own vice.

This wave phenomenon is happening on ever so many scales—the fast wave of light, the slower waves of sound—and there are all sorts of other wave processes, such as the beat of the heart; the rhythm of breath, waking, sleeping; the movement of human life from birth to maturity to death. And the slower the wave goes, the more difficult it is to see that the crest and trough are inseparable, and this is how we become persuaded in the game of hide-and-seek. So we see the trough go down, down, down and think it keeps going forever—that it will never rise back up again into a crest. We forget that trough implies crest, and crest implies trough. There is no such thing as pure sound—sound is sound/silence. Light is light/darkness. Light is pulsation—between every light pulse there is the dark pulse.

Mumtaz has six moles. Two are black: behind her ear and on her hip, in the trough of the wave that crests at her pelvis. Three are the color of rust: knuckle, corner of jaw, behind knee. And one is red, fiery, at the base of her spine, where a tail might grow. I touch them and know them because I watch her like a man in a field stares up at the stars, and I love her constellation because it contains her story and our story, and I wonder which mole is the beginning and which is the end.

With my polished Verses as a trellis of pure metal Studded cunningly with rhymes of crystal, I shall make for your head an immense Crown, And from my Jealousy, O mortal Madonna, I shall know how to cut a cloak in a fashion, Barbaric, heavy, and stiff, lined with suspicion, Which, like a sentry-box, will enclose your charms; Embroidered not with Pearls, but with all of my Tears! Your Gown will be my Desire, quivering, Undulant, my Desire which rises and which falls, Balances on the crests, reposes in the troughs, And clothes with a kiss your white and rose body. Of my Self-respect I shall make you Slippers Of satin which, humbled by your divine feet, Will imprison them in a gentle embrace, And assume their form like a faithful mold; If I can’t, in spite of all my painstaking art, Carve a Moon of silver for your Pedestal, I shall put the Serpent which is eating my heart Under your heels, so that you may trample and mock, Triumphant queen, fecund in redemptions, That monster all swollen with hatred and spittle. from “To a Madonna

Newton had conceived of light as primarily a stream of emitted particles. But by Einstein’s day, most scientists accepted the rival theory, propounded by Newton’s contemporary Christiaan Huygens, that light should be considered a wave. A wide variety of experiments had confirmed the wave theory by the late nineteenth century. For example, Thomas Young did a famous experiment, now replicated by high school students, showing how light passing through two slits produces an interference pattern that resembles that of water waves going through two slits. In each case, the crests and troughs of the waves emanating from each slit reinforce each other in some places and cancel each other out in some places.

Recognize crests and troughs (beginnings and endings). I’ve learned after torturing myself—and finally deciding I don’t like being tortured—that as a self-employed person, my workflow parallels my inner needs. I used to think life was capriciously “having its way with me,” but eventually I saw there was another principle operating. If I’d been in a period of intensive work with clients, for example, and was beginning to complain that the crammed schedule was a problem, the truth was that I was ready to shift into a spacious phase with some alone time during which I might process insights, collect myself, and gestate new projects. Then my phone wouldn’t ring, or work I had tried to get would fall through, and I’d have my quiet time. I usually wouldn’t recognize it as a personal need; I’d feel I was being punished by having this “slump” and would make the gift of my alone time into a problem. “What’s wrong with me? Don’t people like my work? I have to make more money!” I’d mutter. If I stayed in complaining mode, the period of “space” would be prolonged. If, instead, I thanked myself for the renewal time, saw what I’d learned, and realized I was now hungry for people, communication, and external stimulation, the cycle would shift easily and opportunities would show up on my doorstep within days—sometimes hours.

A wave is a moving disturbance in something, like the patterns of crests and troughs formed by water splashing in a backyard pond. Waves are spread out over some region of space by their nature, forming a pattern that changes and moves over time. No physical objects move anywhere—the water stays in the pond—but the pattern of the disturbance changes, and we see that as the motion of a wave.

As you move along the pattern, you see the medium moving up and down by an amount called the “amplitude” of the wave. If you measure the distance between two neighboring crests of the wave (or two troughs), you’ve measured the “wavelength,” which is one of the numbers used to describe a wave.

You also can’t count waves the way you can count particles—you can say how many crests and troughs there are in one particular area, but those are all part of a single wave pattern. Waves are continuous where particles are discrete—you can say that you have one, two, or three particles, but you either have waves, or you don’t.

If you add the two waves together such that the crests of one wave fall on top of the crests of the other, and the troughs of one wave fall in the troughs of the other (such waves are called “in phase”), you’ll get a larger wave than either of the two you started with. On the other hand, if you add two waves together such that the crests of one wave fall in the troughs of the other and vice versa (“out of phase”), the two will cancel out, and you’ll end up with no wave at all.

while it was all right to disagree with something, you should never argue; it was even all right to get annoyed or angry, but it really wasn’t done to raise your voice. All fluctuations in mood and tone had somehow to be played down and smoothed out, not only the troughs, but the crests as well. It was great to be happy, but you didn’t need to make a song and dance about it, so to speak, a smile was sufficient. And if, even so, someone did get carried away, the others would fall ostentatiously quiet for a few seconds, or they would smile pleasantly, then change the subject completely.

Most of the members of the Christian community seemed to do their utmost to appear as gentle and kind and full of brotherly love as possible, as if dead set on reminding themselves of how much they cared about one another. At your house I had the feeling that while it was all right to disagree with something, you should never argue; it was even all right to get annoyed or angry, but it really wasn’t done to raise your voice. All fluctuations in mood and tone had somehow to be played down and smoothed out, not only the troughs, but the crests as well. It was great to be happy, but you didn’t need to make a song and dance about it, so to speak, a smile was sufficient. And if, even so, someone did get carried away, the others would fall ostentatiously quiet for a few seconds, or they would smile pleasantly, then change the subject completely. But despite, or maybe because of, this unspoken insistence on constant self-control, violent emotional outbursts did occasionally occur

the white sail curved by the wind into the likeness of a huge magnolia petal, the water sizzling at the prow, the sparkle of diamonds on every wave crest, the troughs of wrinkled jade.

The hikers are all starting to look the same to me -- fit white dudes in safari wear, powering over the passes faster than I will ever be able to. One of these hikers is wearing a sort of sweat-soaked towel around his neck, and presently he stands above the trough and wrings out the towel into the water. Today the spring is running, and a little water trickles from the pipe into the trough. But the spring is not always running, and hikers after us will have to filter directly from the stone trough. No bueno, I think. Another man, dressed nearly identically, appears and dips his sweaty shirt into the trough. No bueno, I think again.

Overhead, the skin of the ocean writhes like dim mercury. It tilts and dips and scrolls past in an endless succession of crests and troughs, twisting a cool orb glowing on the other side, tying it into playful dancing knots. A few moments later they break through the surface and look onto a world of sea and moonlit sky.

Colliding particles would bounce off each other, but waves that collide pass through each other and remain unchanged. But it can conflict with overlapping waves - if a trough overlaps a crest, the wave can totally vanish.

The principle underlying a SQUID is that variations in a magnetic field alter the phase difference between the quantum waves on either side of its two junctions, and therefore change the supercurrents tunneling through them. Just as ripples on a pond can either add up when they collide (if a crest meets a crest) or cancel each other out (if a crest meets a trough), the quantum waves in the two arms of a SQUID interfere in a way that depends sensitively on their phases, and hence on the amount of magnetic flux passing through the loop. In this way, a SQUID transforms tiny variations in magnetic flux into measurable changes in current and voltage across the device, allowing ultrafaint electromagnetic signals to be detected and quantified.

No one can be moral—that is, no one can harmonize contained conflicts—without coming to a working arrangement between the angel in himself and the devil in himself, between his rose above and his manure below. The two forces or tendencies are mutually interdependent, and the game is a working game just so long as the angel is winning, but does not win, and the devil is losing, but is never lost. (The game doesn’t work in reverse, just as the ocean doesn’t work with wave-crests down and troughs up.)

And Paul, walking behind Chani, felt that a vital moment had passed him, that he had missed an essential decision and was now caught up in his own myth. He knew he had seen this place before, experienced it in a fragment of prescient dream on faraway Caladan, but details of the place were being filled in now that he had not seen. He felt a new sense of wonder at the limits of his gift. It was as though he rode within the wave of time, sometimes in its trough, sometimes on a crest--and all around him the other waves lifted and fell, revealing and then hiding what they bore on their surface.

He swam with the wind at his back, cresting the waves and flowing into the troughs, up and down, over and over again.

Transcend the opposites of death and life; find the Point of Singularity in which the two become One. Know that birth and death are the crest and trough of One Wave.

was as though he rode within the wave of time, sometimes in its trough, sometimes on a crest—and all around him the other waves lifted and fell, revealing and then hiding what they bore on their surface.

Of course, there is one obvious thing we could do to try to improve velocity: work longer hours. Working a lot of consecutive overtime might initially cause velocity to increase (see “Overtime” in Figure 7.14). Figure 7.14. The effect of overtime on velocity (based on a figure from Cook 2008) That increase will almost certainly be followed by an aggressive decline in velocity along with a simultaneous decline in quality. Even after the overtime period ends, the team will need some amount of time to recover before returning to its reasonable baseline velocity. I have seen examples of where the trough (decreased velocity area) during the recovery period is larger than the crest (increased velocity area) during the overtime period. The end result is that lots of overtime may provide some short-term benefits, but these are frequently far outweighed by the long-term consequences.

A sine wave is a rather simple sort of variation with time. It can be characterized, or described, or differentiated completely from any other sine wave by means of just three quantities. One of these is the maximum height above zero, called the amplitude. Another is the time at which the maximum is reached, which is specified as the phase. The third is the time T between maxima, called the period. Usually, we use instead of the period the reciprocal of the period called the frequency, denoted by the letter f. If the period T of a sine wave is 1/100 second, the frequency f is 100 cycles per second, abbreviated cps. A cycle is a complete variation from crest, through trough, and back to crest again. The sine wave is periodic in that one variation from crest through trough to crest again is just like any other.

We will not tame the waters. To perish by them is the destiny of humankind. The Gomti has risen like a mythical boa…it forms muddy troughs and sinuous crests as though infused with the soul of the ocean. As we sometimes are infused with the spirit of our own ultimate destination