Mechanical Workshop Quotes

..English teachers often take a right-wrong stance. I'd rather my students take a thinking stance.

To my lovely starling, Maybe there are magical words that will make you understand, but if so, I do not know them. Words are your domain. I've always been better with pictures. I fear you think I am a monster. It's true I've disrupted many graves. The way I see it, the dead are dead. If, after their death, we can learn things from the about the human form - things that will increase the sum of human knowledge and the possibilities of art - what harm is that? After death, new life, new beauty. How can that be wrong? My friends and I have made use of some of the bodies as models. some we sell to surgeons who study them with the hopes of learning something about the frail mechanisms of the human body. I don't know exactly what Dottor de Gradi does in his workshop on the Rialto, and I was as surprised as you were to stumble on it. He couldn't - he wouldn't tell me if your friend's body ended up there. But he did assure me all of his work is focused solely on extending human life. I won't lie. I did it for the money as well. Don Loredan is holding a private exhibition in his palazzo tomorrow. The entry fee was quite steep but two of my paintings were accepted. This could be the beginning for me. I could find my own patrons. I could be more than just a peasant. Tommaso's assistant. So yes; a little for money. But mostly I did for the art. I don't expect these words to change how you feel. I simply want you not to see me as a monster. I don't want to be a monster. Not anymore. Not after meeting you. I know that we disrupted you dear friend's body, and for that I am deeply regretful. But if we had not done so, if I had not lingered in the San Domenico churchyard after standing guard for my friends, you and I might never have met. Meeting you is one thing I will never regret. I hope you like the painting. Consider tit a wedding gift. How stupid of me to let my heart go. It was a lovely fantasy while it lasted, though, wasn't it? Yours, Falco

In the workshop, wishing won't make it so. The craftsman is forced to come to terms with the physical properties of materials, the mechanical properties of tools, and the real capacity and limits of his own dexterity, discipline and imagination. In this way, craft's materiality imposes cooperation on the sometimes discordant factions of the mind. By necessity, it reconciles the desire to interpret the world in ways that are emotionally gratifying with the countervailing need for accurate information to facilitate effective decisions. Thus the holistic quality of craft lies not only in engaging the whole person but also in harmonising his understanding of himself in the world.

The Oldfields of the future are beyond hearing; they are shut up in the factories and the workshops, leading a rackety and mechanical existence, to the damage of their bodies and the peril of their souls, for the sake of an extra pound or so a week, which they promptly spend on mental or physical narcotics.

took a step away from the table, and then I reached out with my magic and depressed the button at the base of the mechanical arm. An instant later, a double-edged blade shot out from under the gauntlet with a slight metallic screech. It was about a foot and a half long and as wide as my wrist, and it glinted silver in the light of the workshop.

And how about the "Daily Odes to the Benefactor"? Who can read them without bowing his head reverently before the selfless labors of this Number of Numbers? Or the terrible, blood-red beauty of the "Flowers of Judicial Verdicts" ? Or the immortal tragedy "He Who Was Late to Work"? Or the bedside book of "Stanzas on Sexual Hygiene"? The whole of life, in all its complexity and beauty, has been etched forever into the gold of words. Our poets no longer soar into the Empyrean; they have come down to earth; they go along in step with us to the stern mechanical March of the Musical Factory. Their lyre consists of the morning hum of electrical toothbrushes and the ominous crackle of the sparks in the Machine of the Benefactor; the majestic echo of the OneState Anthem and the intimate tinkle of the gleaming crystal chamberpot at night; the exciting clatter of lowering blinds , the merry voices of the latest cookbook, and the barely audible whisper of street membranes Our gods are here, below, with us—in the office, the kitchen, the workshop, the toilet; the gods have become like us. Ergo, we have become like gods. And we're headed your way, my unknown planetary readers , we're coming to make your life as divinely rational and precise as ours.

For many years Minos has been lucky to have in his court the most gifted inventor, the most skilled artificer outside of the Olympian forges of Hephaestus. His name is Daedalus and he is capable of fashioning moving objects out of metal, bronze, wood, ivory and gemstones. He has mastered the art of tightly coiling leaves of steel into powerful springs, which control wheels and chains to form intricate and marvellous mechanisms that mark the passage of the hours with great precision and accuracy, or control the levels of watercourses. There is nothing this cunning man cannot contrive in his workshop. There are moving statues there, men and women animated by his skill, boxes that play music and devices that can awaken him in the morning. Even if only half the stories of what Daedalus can achieve are true then you can be certain that no more cunning and clever an inventor, architect and craftsman has ever walked this earth.

Not only in antiquity but in our own times also laws have been passed...to secure good conditions for workers; so it is right that the art of medicine should contribute its portion for the benefit and relief of those for whom the law has shown such foresight...[We] ought to show peculiar zeal...in taking precautions for their safety. I for one have done all that lay in my power, and have not thought it beneath me to step into workshops of the meaner sort now and again and study the obscure operations of mechanical arts.

Each time he needed to escape he ran and ran until he came to the clearing and he could fly on again. At last he came to our modern time and saw the life of people like us. He lived with an old lady who was kind to him. When she became too frail, she had to sell her home and Alfredo knew better than to hang around waiting for the dog warden. By chance, he wandered along a street where there was a big bus garage. The city buses were stored there and the mechanics worked on them in a big workshop filled with tools and the noise of spanners, drills and hammers. He crept in to see if there was anything to eat. He saw a crow on the roof, who called out again and again, “CAW....CAW.” A human’s legs were sticking out from under a bus. The man spotted him and held out a hand. “Hello stranger, what’s your name?

Grammar includes all the principles that guide the structure of sentences and paragraphs: syntax-the flow of language; usage-how we use words in different situations; and rules-predetermined boundaries and patterns that govern language in a particular society. Mechanics, on the other hand, are ways we punctuate whatever we are trying to say in our writing: punctuation, capitalization, paragraphing, formatting.

At a workshop attended by expert researchers in quantum mechanichs in 1997, Max Tegmark took an admittedly highly unscienfific poll of the participants' favored interpretation of quantum mechanics. The Copenhagen interpretation came in first with thirteen votes, while the many-worlds interpretation came in second with eight. Another nine votes were scattered among other alternatives. Most interesting, eighteen votes were cast for "None of the above/undecided." And these are the experts.

Willys Workshop has a fleet of fully qualified mechanics and can service all sizes of equipment! Heavy Machinery, Diesel 4×4 performance, General car logbook servicing & fully maintained fleet service plans, we do it all. We can also attend at short notice for emergency breakdowns of all equipment. We offer a variety of service options and can even complete the work at your location to make it easy for you!

Society does not want a man to live with a live flower inside him but to harden like mineral and live the life of a wheel. Yes, above all, the un-mortal, collective, prefabricated mechanism of society abhors the incalculable, the unique individual element, the unharnessed creative element, the flower which is apt to burst into flame and turn life into a blazing poem instead of an engineer’s workshop. That flower at all costs it is determined to cut down stone dead. 'The Case of Bill Williams', Horizon article, 1944

From the moment that humans find themselves subjected, by their work, their pleasures, their interests, their thoughts, perpetually joined together, in their thoughts, from the moment that their houses, their clothes, their food become progressively identical, from the moment that they read the same things at the same time in the same newspapers, see everywhere in the world the same films… from the moment that the same means of transport lead men and women to the same offices and workshops, the same restaurants and canteens, the same sports fields and the same theaters… the result is a sort of general mechanization of existence in which the individual is sure to be crushed.

An elderly person who cannot see beneath the surface should donate his brain to a mechanic workshop for an experimental quick fix tutorial with apprentices.

Englishmen of Whiggish persuasion were convinced that, after decades and centuries of thought and travail, the British constitution had come to represent the best way to achieve that goal. Drawing heavily from Greek and Roman thinkers who had affirmed the need of mixed government in order to achieve balance and harmony among social classes, the English had achieved such a balance of social power among king, lords, and commons that a political balance of power would be counterpoised among these powerful estates. Social equilibrium in short would produce political equilibrium, which in turn would prevent the kind of immoderate government that might interfere in men’s liberties. This elaborate edifice was based on the theory that men, being naturally selfish, irrational, aggressive, greedy, and lustful, had to be not only protected in their liberty from government but protected from one another by government. The “Interest of Freedom,” Marchamont Nedham had written in the mid-1650s, “is a Virgin that everyone seeks to deflower.” Paine and his fellow radicals rejected this view of human nature and the Whiggish apparatus that went with it. Perhaps the people of the Old World, divided into unequal estates and corrupted by their rulers, were prone to depravity and unreason, they granted, but Americans were different. Farmers and mechanics and all others who wore “leathern aprons,” being more equal and fraternal and less grasping and competitive, were more reasonable and virtuous. Because of his faith in human nature and the perfectibility of man, as Eric Foner has said, “Paine could reject the need for governmental checks and balances.

From the moment that humans find themselves subjected, by their work, their pleasures, their interests, their thoughts, perpetually joined together, in their thoughts, from the moment that their houses, their clothes, their food become progressively identical, from the moment that they read the same things at the same time in the same newspapers, see everywhere in the world the same films … from the moment that the same means of transport lead men and women to the same offices and workshops, the same restaurants and canteens, the same sports fields and the same theaters… the result is a sort of general mechanization of existence in which the individual is sure to be crushed.

I spent the two and one-half months between my meeting with the Art Commission and the beginning of my actual mural work in soaking up impressions of the productive activities of the city. I studied industrial scenes by night as well as by day, making literally thousands of sketches of towering blast furnaces, serpentine conveyor belts, impressive scientific laboratories, busy assembling rooms; also of precision instruments, some of them massive yet delicate; and of the men who worked them all. I walked for miles through the immense workshops of the Ford, Chrysler, Edison, Michigan Alkali, and Parke-Davis plants. I was afire with enthusiasm. My childhood passion for mechanical toys had been transmuted to a delight in machinery for its own sake and for its meaning to man -- his self-fulfillment and liberation from drudgery and poverty. That is why now I placed the collective hero, man-and-machine, higher than the old traditional heroes of art and legend. I felt that in the society of the future as already, to some extent, that of the present, man-and-machine would be as important as air, water, and the light of the sun. This was the "philosophy," the state of mind in which I undertook my Detroit frescoes.