Obvious Art Of War Quotes

He who only sees the obvious, wins his battles with difficulty; he who looks below the surface of things, wins with ease

All of you do this. Every organic sapient I’ve ever talked to, every book I’ve read, every piece of art I’ve studied. You are all desperate for purpose, even though you don’t have one. You’re animals, and animals don’t have a purpose. Animals just are. And there are a lot of intelligent – sentient, maybe – animals out there who don’t have a problem with that. They just go on breathing and mating and eating each other without a second thought. But the animals like you – the ones who make tools and build cities and itch to explore, you all share a need for purpose. For reason. That thinking worked well for you, once. When you climbed down out of the trees, up out of the ocean – knowing what things were for was what kept you alive. Fruit is for eating. Fire is for warmth. Water is for drinking. And then you made tools, which were for certain kinds of fruit, for making fire, cleaning water. Everything was for something, so obviously, you had to be for something too, right? All of your histories are the same, in essence. They’re all stories of animals warring and clashing because you can’t agree on what you’re for, or why you exist.

We quickly became friends with other art faculty members such as the ceramist Jim Leedy and his wife Jean and art historian/artist Bill Kortlander and his wife Betty. I also began taking classes in Southeast Asian history with John Cady, who had resigned from his position at the U.S.[CB4] [mo5]  State Department because he thought it would be a huge mistake to get involved in a “land war in Southeast Asia.” In 1966, his warnings were starting to become all too obvious as the Vietnam war grew and protests against it emerged. Dr. Cady was in the thick of the protests and was even being shadowed by the F.B.I. After I finished my BFA in art in 1966, I began work on a master’s degree in history at Dr. Cady’s urging. He and his wife became frequent guests at our parties

He who only sees the obvious, wins his battles with difficulty; he who looks below the surface of things, wins with ease.

Like our IQ, talent is a gift from our ancestors. If we're lucky, we inherit it. In the fortunate talented few, the dark dimension of their natures will first resist the labor that creativity demands, but once they commit to the task, their talented side stirs to action and rewards them with astonishing feats. These flashes of creative genius seem to arrive from out of the blue for the obvious reason: They come from the unconscious mind. In short, if the Muse exists, she does not whisper to the untalented.

threw light upon the principles of war. It is obvious enough that Ssu-ma Ch`ien at least had no doubt about the reality of Sun Wu as

ACTION FREES YOU FROM IDEOLOGY “The world is always close to catastrophe. But it seems to be closer now. Seeing this approaching catastrophe, most of us take shelter in idea. We think that this catastrophe, this crisis, can be solved by an ideology. Ideology is always an impediment to direct relationship, which prevents action.” Jiddu Krishnamurti Action immediately frees you from your ideologies. The switch is one of impossible (and invisible) reconciliation of warring ideas to total harmony. Focusing on the work or situation before you as it is makes it clear. The most obvious choice becomes clear as you pay attention. When you let go of an idea of how things should be then you open yourself up to the best current choice. This is easy to perform in work or sports, provided we have some experience with them. It’s more difficult in relationships with other people. Our expectations for how our parents, significant others, or bosses should behave makes us blind to how we could act given the current circumstances. We shouldn’t apply romantic ideals to others if we wish to connect with them. (Even the expectation that they lift their expectations should be lifted.)

Obviously, the violence suppression of social movements is hardly new. One need only think of the Red Scare, the reaction to radical labor movements like the IWW, let alone the campaigns of outright assassination directed against the American Indian Movement or black radicals in the 1960s and early 1970s. But in almost every case, the victims were either working-class or nonwhite. On the few occasions where even much milder systematic repression is directed at any significant number of middle-class white people--as during the McCarthy era, or against student protesters during the Vietnam War--it quickly becomes a national scandal. And, while it would be wrong to call Occupy Wall Street a middle-class white people’s movement--it was much more divers than that--there is no doubt that very large numbers of middle-class white people were involved in it. Yet the government did not hesitate to attack it, often using highly militarized tactics, often deploying what can only be called terroristic violence--that is, if "terrorism" is defined as attacks on civilians consciously calculated to create terror for political ends. (I know this statement might seem controversial. But when Los Angeles police, for example, open fire with rubber bullets on a group of chalk-wielding protesters engaged in a perfectly legal, permitted "art walk," in an obvious attempt to teach citizens that participating in any Occupy-related activity could lead to physical injury, it’s hard to see how that word should not apply.) (p. 141-142)

On August 10, Gian Galeazzo called together his war council. He appeared pale and distracted. He was ill with a fever; his doctors told him to take to his bed. The invasion was postponed. Over the next several days Visconti took a turn for the worse; and on September 3, 1402, the would-be king of Italy died. His heirs quarreled over their inheritance. Within weeks Gian Galeazzo’s empire crumbled away, and his armies scattered into the countryside. Florence was saved. To the Florentines, it was obvious what had happened. They had been saved by a divine miracle. But it was also a divine judgment: a vindication of their way of life and liberty itself. Everything that made Florence a free society—from its constitution to its trade and commerce, along with its arts and scholarship—had received a powerful sanction.