Schematic Play Quotes

Electricity," Purva said, rolling the strange new word around in her mouth, giving it at once an Australian and a French inflection. "Sir William was playing around with it when we met, do you remember?" Jack said to Clare. "He was storing charges in boxes." "I remember he was blowing things up," Clare replied. "Six of one..." Jack grinned. "Nobody really knows how it works, but down here it powers most of the lights in the big cities and parts of the automobiles and the stoves in the train kitchen. You can store the power in blocks, then hook it up to anything you might otherwise run on a boiler. It's cooler, and the blocks last longer than coal. I think I can reproduce it when we get home, if I can take enough schematics with me." "He is going to kill himself," Purva said, but her tone was casual, not overly worried. "I'm not going to kill myself," Jack answered, equally casual. "Just because it can cause your heart to stop doesn't mean it always does.

Let’s take the example of a person suffering from OCD. In this case, one possible brain state corresponds to “Wash your hands again.” Another is, “Don’t wash—go to the garden.” By expending mental effort—or, as I think of it, unleashing mental force—the person can focus attention on this second idea. Doing so, as we saw, brings into play the Quantum Zeno Effect. As a result, the idea—whose physical embodiment is a physical brain state—“Go to the garden” is held in place longer than classical theory predicts. The triumphant idea can then make the body move, and through associated neuroplastic changes, alter the brain’s circuitry. This will change the brain in ways that will increase the probability of the “Go to the garden” brain state arising again. (See schematic on Chapter 10.)

Sabism is an art and theatric movement of 21st century occupied with the philotipes, mythologic forms, schematism and chromatic scales, dual art, logism of color, cult art, conglomeration. As an art movement it tries to explore word act, group performance, collective structure, fruitfulness and aesthetics of multitude through philotipes as implicit connotation of colors or schemes in their general use (honeysuckle yellow, female, courtly, savage, dionysiaque).

I hurried into the living room, and the kernel grew until it filled my sternum. They weren’t there. The play mat was empty. “Elliot?” I called. “Where are you?” Only a second or two passed, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, Elliot appeared in the kitchen doorway, Joey in his arms. “We’re here,” he answered. My heart was still lodged firmly in my throat. “You’re holding her.” He had my daughter against his chest, facing outward, his hand on her belly to keep her stable. She seemed content, her head resting against him, his suit sleeve clenched in her fist. Somehow, this was different than when Raymond held her. Ray loved Joey, and they were buddies. It made me smile to see them together. But this…I wasn’t smiling. Despite myself, my thighs pressed together, and heat flooded my core. What is this? “She seemed bored, so I took her out back to see the birds.” He patted her round middle. “If I measure her enjoyment by the amount of drool that dripped on my arm, she liked it very much.” A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of me. This was all so surreal. “My daughter drooled on you?” “She did.” “You don’t seem mad.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not a monster, Catherine. I knew the risks of holding a baby and picked her up anyway.” He jiggled her softly, and she settled even more in his arms. I didn’t know how to handle this man holding my daughter so delicately—or my body’s immediate reaction. I walked toward them, intent on taking her back, giving him the schematics, and hustling him out of there so I could regain a semblance of equilibrium. “You’re limping.” I stopped moving. “Yes. I stubbed my toe. I’m fine, though.” He closed the distance between us. When Joey alighted on me, she gave me my favorite smile: open-mouthed with the sweetest little coo. “Hi, Joey-Girl,” I cooed back. “Did you get a ride with Elliot? He’s so tall, isn’t he? You’ve never been that high up before.” “Her father’s short?” I huffed. “No. He’s pretty tall too.

Association of dissimilar ideas “I had earlier devised an arrangement for beam steering on the two-mile accelerator which reduced the amount of hardware necessary by a factor of two…. Two weeks ago it was pointed out to me that this scheme would steer the beam into the wall and therefore was unacceptable. During the session, I looked at the schematic and asked myself how could we retain the factor of two but avoid steering into the wall. Again a flash of inspiration, in which I thought of the word ‘alternate.’ I followed this to its logical conclusion, which was to alternate polarities sector by sector so the steering bias would not add but cancel. I was extremely impressed with this solution and the way it came to me.” “Most of the insights come by association.” “It was the last idea that I thought was remarkable because of the way in which it developed. This idea was the result of a fantasy that occurred during Wagner…. [The participant had earlier listened to Wagner’s ‘Ride of the Valkyries.’] I put down a line which seemed to embody this…. I later made the handle which my sketches suggested and it had exactly the quality I was looking for…. I was very amused at the ease with which all of this was done.” 10. Heightened motivation to obtain closure “Had tremendous desire to obtain an elegant solution (the most for the least).” “All known constraints about the problem were simultaneously imposed as I hunted for possible solutions. It was like an analog computer whose output could not deviate from what was desired and whose input was continually perturbed with the inclination toward achieving the output.” “It was almost an awareness of the ‘degree of perfection’ of whatever I was doing.” “In what seemed like ten minutes, I had completed the problem, having what I considered (and still consider) a classic solution.” 11. Visualizing the completed solution “I looked at the paper I was to draw on. I was completely blank. I knew that I would work with a property three hundred feet square. I drew the property lines (at a scale of one inch to forty feet), and I looked at the outlines. I was blank…. Suddenly I saw the finished project. [The project was a shopping center specializing in arts and crafts.] I did some quick calculations …it would fit on the property and not only that …it would meet the cost and income requirements …it would park enough cars …it met all the requirements. It was contemporary architecture with the richness of a cultural heritage …it used history and experience but did not copy it.” “I visualized the result I wanted and subsequently brought the variables into play which could bring that result about. I had great visual (mental) perceptibility; I could imagine what was wanted, needed, or not possible with almost no effort. I was amazed at my idealism, my visual perception, and the rapidity with which I could operate.

CHECKING CONNECTIONS AS A TEAM Finding circuit problems is called debugging, and it’s easier to do with some help. When you get stuck, ask someone else to look at the circuit diagram and say the connections out loud one by one while you check the real connections. For example, if your friend is reading the schematic and you’re looking at the breadboard, you might have a conversation like this: Friend: “The positive side of the battery is connected to one side of R1.” You: “Got it!” Friend: “The positive side of the battery is also connected to pins 4 and 8 of the IC.” You: “Got it!” Friend: “The other side of R1 is connected to pin 7 of the chip and to one side of the resistor R2.” You: “Oh, wait! I don’t have the connection to pin 7!” And just like that, you’ll discover the problem.

Early in her career, Muse engaged her skills for technical purposes, such as document translation and schematic visualizations for government entities. She continued to write and paint poetically, in secret, using her pen name, Muse. An inner compass is evident in her work. Pieces reflect both past and present dilemmas; while showcasing her victories in overcoming these obstacles ~ all from her faith based perspective. Light touches of modernism play hand in hand with old world strokes, offering highly visceral readings.

The sensus communis plays no part in Kant—not even in the logical sense. What Kant treats in the transcendental doctrine of judgment—i.e., the doctrine of schematism and the principles—no longer has anything to do with the sensus communis.57 For here we are concerned with concepts that are supposed to refer to their objects a priori, and not with the subsumption of the particular under the universal.

But Hickey was responsible for one minor and one major schematic innovation. The minor one was the alley-oop, a jump-ball strategy that made a star out of receiver R.C. Owens. The major one—because it’s the prominent offensive formation in the NFL today—is the shotgun. The Green Bay Packers had used a version of what became the shotgun with a short punt formation years before, but that was more of a trick play unintended to be used on every snap.

At times, it seems the leash Abramovich has me on is rather a long one, but that is just another part of his cruel game—effecting the illusion of freedom. A game he has no doubt been playing with Taj for much of his life. Little freedoms were granted me right off the bat from the moment I stepped foot on this planet. Much of my time is spent on my own, for example, roaming freely about the compound and right out the front door to the cliffs below, should it suit me. Beyond that, Abramovich is often forthcoming with select information and relatively open with my access to the network. This includes allowing me visibility into the schematics of most of his creations that are stored there. I can only assume it is because he does not see me, or more precisely, my intellect, as much of a threat. I suppose I’ll consider it an advantage, one of the few unwittingly granted my age and gender, and that is the advantage of being overlooked, unseen, and underestimated. I think back to the day I arrived at the compound and met Abramovich for the first time. Just blown in off the tundra, I was no more than a sickly waif still reeling at the revelation that he had burned our beloved, wicked world. In retrospect, it serves me well to have appeared weak—a non-threat—and as much as I resent being treated as inferior simply because I am young and I am female, I recognize that it allows me to capitalize on the regular gross underestimation of my brain, my guts, and my spine that I’ve encountered thus far in life. My gender, we are silent killers when the time comes, and it would behoove those who assume otherwise to recognize it. Mordecai Abramovich is one upon whom I can promise you it is lost. Today, every day before, and likely every day after, he remains in the dark about the sort of hell that will one day rain down on him by my hand. Presently, I am nothing more than a pawn to him to be used and manipulated. However, Imani always said, “We teach people how to treat us,” so maybe if I can live through this, he will learn something new about my gender through me that isn’t written in his Founders’ Creed.