Yves Quotes

The most beautiful makeup of a woman is passion. But cosmetics are easier to buy.

We must never confuse elegance with snobbery

Over the years I have learned that what is important in a dress is the woman who is wearing it.

Fashions fade, style is eternal.

For most of history, man has had to fight nature to survive; in this century he is beginning to realize that, in order to survive, he must protect it.

The most beautiful clothes that can dress a woman are the arms of the man she loves. But for those who haven't had the fortune of finding this happiness, I am there.

Water and air, the two essential fluids on which all life depends, have become global garbage cans.

Sometimes we must undergo hardships, breakups, and narcissistic wounds, which shatter the flattering image that we had of ourselves, in order to discover two truths: that we are not who we thought we were; and that the loss of a cherished pleasure is not necessarily the loss of true happiness and well-being. (109)

Yves. You are goint to love him all over again when you meet him, believe me. You're married.' 'I'm what? But I can't be more than eighteen!' 'My son is very persuasive,' said Saul proudly.

I have often said that I wish I had invented blue jeans: the most spectacular, the most practical, the most relaxed and nonchalant. They have expression, modesty, sex appeal, simplicity - all I hope for in my clothes.

I'm not a little woman you need to defend.' His face hardened. 'That's exactly what you are: you're my little woman and I'm not having you sacrifice yourself for me.

Isn't elegance forgetting what one is wearing?

Chanel gave women freedom. Yves Saint Laurent (YSL) gave them power.

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever. Jacques Yves Cousteau

…This… ’stuff’? I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don’t know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise, it’s not lapis, it’s actually cerulean. You’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn’t it, who showed cerulean military jackets? …And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of 8 different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic casual corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff.

So you got Phoenix back,” declared Karla, clapping her hands in delight. “That’s lovely.” “I’m more on loan,” I muttered. “Yeah, my little library book.

Le plus beau vêtement qui puisse habiller une femme, ce sont les bras de l'homme qu'elle aime.

The most beautiful clothes that can dress a woman are the arms of the man she loves.

How am I going to help you?” “You are going to jump.” “Ha.” “You are.” “Have you done this before?” “Yeah, with fruit.” That was Xav. “And why am I not reassured?

All life is part of a complex relationship in which each is dependent upon the others, taking from, giving to and living with all the rest.

You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me.

Just, in future, an ‘I’m-not-going-to-get-myself-killed’ note would be appreciated.

We are living in an interminable succession of absurdities imposed by the myopic logic of short-term thinking.

In certain situations, manifesting anger is the right attitude; in others it is not the right thing to manifest because it will only add to the violence. In the first case, anger unblocks the conflict and causes another to become more conscious. In the latter, it only adds to the unconsciousness and inflames the conflict. (73)

Follow me. Yves held out a hand, expecting me to take it. I had had enough of being pushed about, towed here, shoved there. Lead the way, O master. He raised an eyebrow at my sarcasm. Glad to see you have seen the light. I only want what’s best for you. Mr Arrogant or what? I don’t mean it like that. He shook his head, telling himself off. I just want to make this right but I seem to be doing it all wrong. Then let me go. That would be a tragedy. Give me a chance here. Please.

You look like you’ve eaten the sun, like you drank so much sunlight you’re drowning in it.

Xav tugged Yves off me and handed me the call button. “You’ll be needing this, Phee, when my irritating little squirt of a brother bothers you again. Just press and the nurses will come running. One of them looks like a pro-wrestler, so she’ll make short work of him.

Our hands full or not: The same abundance. Our eyes open or shut: The same light.

I have always believed that fashion was not only to make women more beautiful, but also to reassure them, give them confidence.

It takes generosity to discover the whole through others. If you realize you are only a violin, you can open yourself up to the world by playing your role in the concert.

The meditative mind sees disagreeable or agreeable things with equanimity, patience, and good-will. Transcendent knowledge is seeing reality in utter simplicity. (146)

Rien n'est plus beau qu'un corps nu. Le plus beau vêtement qui puisse habiller une femme ce sont les bras de l'homme qu'elle aime. Mais, pour celles qui n'ont pas eu la chance de trouver ce bonheur, je suis là.

I’m so pleased you’re such a quick judge of character. You’ve got him tagged.” “Yep, toe-tagged, in the freezer, then buried six feet under.

I have written my name on the far side of the sky.

Yves did not like showers, he preferred long, scalding baths, with newspapers, cigarettes, and whiskey on a chair next to the bathtub, and with Eric nearby to talk to, to shampoo his hair, and to scrub his back.

It taught me that the process was more important than the result, just as the performance means more to me than the object. I saw the process of making it and then the process of its unmaking. There was no duration or stability to it. It was pure process. Later on I read—and loved—the Yves Klein quote: “My paintings are but the ashes of my art.

Do not believe anything merely because you are told it is so, because others believe it, because it comes from Tradition, or because you have imagined it. Do not believe what your teacher tells you merely out of respect. Believe, take for your doctrine, and hold true to that, which, after serious investigation, seems to you to further the welfare of all beings. (47)

All that matters is that you want me. Say the word & I’ll burn for ten days.

You…you want me to argue with you? I thought you wanted me to understand you.

To be grounded in an attitude of compassion is to be capable of receiving and welcoming the suffering, which the other is giving us. This does not mean that we suffer for them, but that we offer them possibility of going beyond the separate self in which suffering is harbored. (59)

Without elegance of the heart, there is no elegance.

I wasn’t sure, but I thought it kind of suited me. With the right shoes and everything.” I displayed the new blue pumps. “I wanted to look, you know, pretty.” Yves gaped. I felt a little bit sorry for him. “Um…Phee, I don’t know what to say.” I let my bright expression dim. “You… you think I look horrible in it?” My voice rose in a convincing squeak of distress. He put his hands on my soulders. “No, you look great. You always look great, no matter what you’re wearing.” Zed laughed. “Ouch. Wrong thing to say.

Once again, we are reminded that awakening, or enlightenment is not the property of Buddhism, any more than Truth is the property of Christianity. Neither the Buddha nor the Christ belongs exclusively to the communities that were founded in their names. They belong to all people of goodwill, all who are attentive to the secret which lives in the depths of their breath and their consciousness. (14)

The depth of our compassion is proportional to the depth of our living. (65)

I fell onto love like a sword,

Unknowing, let us sleep. Chest against chest, Our breathing mingled, hand in hand without dreams.

The compassionate person does not require other people to be stupid, in order to be intelligent. Their intelligence is for everyone, so as to have a world in which there is less ignorance. (118)

Much blood has been spilled over words, and a great deal of it over the word ‘God.’ (125)

Sometimes the best answer to a question is another question. Is it not by asking questions that we stimulate each other to reach more deeply into our own source and, thereby, approach the Source, both together and in our different ways? (7)

our mouths are wounds that speak in tongues of healing. we say, sacrifice. we mean, murder. our lips are red for a reason.

Con lei" pensò Yves, con insolita irritazione "bisognerebbe essere sempre psicologicamente in smoking. E io, ahimè, non posso permettermelo

Every explorer I have met has been driven—not coincidentally but quintessentially—by curiosity, by a single-minded, insatiable, and even jubilant need to know.

Nice. Like the new look. He didn’t sound as if he liked it one tiny bit. He sounded fit to be tied down and given a dose of sedatives.

I know how your rage can light a thunderstorm or flood a town; so if there's ever blood on your hands again, I want it to be mine.

If you are a Buddhist, inspire yourself by thinking of the bodhisattva. If you are a Christian, think of the Christ, who came not to be served by others but to serve them in joy, in peace, and in generosity. For these things, these are not mere words, but acts, which go all the way, right up to their last breath. Even their death is a gift, and resurrection is born from this kind of death. (157)

What is the real origin of my own anger? Is it the ego defending its territory, or is it something that has its source in the desire for the well-being of all? (73)

Clouds, this evening The same as always, like thirst, The same red dress, unfastened. Imagine, passerby, Our new beginnings, our eagerness, our trust.

It is certain that the study of human psychology, if it were undertaken exclusively in prisons, would also lead to misrepresentation and absurd generalizations.

I swam across the rocks and compared myself favorably with the sars. To swim fishlike, horizontally, was the logical method in a medium eight hundred times denser than air. To halt and hang attached to nothing, no lines or air pipe to the surface, was a dream. At night I had often had visions of flying by extending my arms as wings. Now I flew without wings. (Since that first aqualung flight, I have never had a dream of flying.)

It is important never to separate love and knowledge, compassion and wisdom. A wisdom without compassion is closed upon itself and does not bear fruit. A compassion without wisdom is a madness and a cause of suffering.

The ego is like a clever monkey, which can co-opt anything, even the most spiritual practices, so as to expand itself. (155)

We are probably wrong to suspect that each individual has some secret passion, some mystery, some weakness; if Jean-Yves's father had had to express his innermost convictions, the profound meaning he ascribed to life, he could probably have cited nothing more than a slight disappointment.

We will feel him in the rain, in the wind, in the bite of snow, in the scent of autumn leaves, and in deep and penetrating silence. We might miss him terribly but will never be away from him. Yves returns to joy. As we all will, one day.

We only protect what we love, we only love what we understand, and we only understand what we are taught.

It [speaking with words that bring about harmony] consists of speaking of what is good about people, instead of what is wrong with them. For some people this is an almost impossible exercise, for they have become totally habituated to speaking critically. We all seem to have a special talent for finding critical things to say about the world, about others, and about ourselves! (117)

Encontrarte es lo mejor que me ha pasado en la vida.

Since fire's born of fire, why should we desire To gather up its scattered ash. On the appointed day we surrendered what we were To a vaster blaze, the evening sky.

Lead us toward a speech, which is as beautiful as silence, and toward a silence, which is as beautiful as the sweetest and truest of words. (119)

[W]e need not become fixated upon our own suffering, whatever its origin. We offer it up, thus participating in the well-being of the universe. When we experience an illness or depression not as our own but as the universe’s, we are one with all beings who experience this kind of suffering. (78)

On aime ce qui nous a émerveillé, et on protège ce que l'on aime.

For most of history, man has had to fight nature to survive; in this century, he is beginning to realize that, in order to survive, he must protect it." —Jacques-Yves Cousteau.

To restate an old law - when a man bites a fish, that's good, but when a fish bites a man, that's bad. This is one way of saying it's all right if man kills an animal, but if an animal attacks man, the act is reprehensible. The animal is labelled "killer," something to be feared, hated, shunned, punished, even killed by man. How dangerous are those sea animals with bad reputations? A few actually kill. A few maim. Some are poisonous when eaten by man. Most sting, stab,or poison and cause mild to severe discomfort to man. Yet man is one of the larger beings that sea creatures encounter, and these poisons usually can't kill him. Very often these poisons are used defensively against predators and offensively in food gathering. There are a few animals that have won themselves a bad reputation even though they have little or no effect on man. They have won their rating through man's interpretation of their attitude towards lower animals. These animals have been seen feeding in what appears to be a savage manner. But this behavior may perhaps be comparable to a man tearing the flesh off a chicken leg with his teeth.

Yves Klein said it was the essence of colour itself: the colour that stood for all other colours. A man once spent his entire life searching for a particular shade of blue that he remembered encountering in childhood. He began to despair of ever finding it, thinking he must have imagined that precise shade, that it could not possibly exist in nature. Then one day he chanced upon it. It was the colour of a beetle in a museum of natural history. He wept for joy.’ - "Zima Blue" by Alastair Reynolds

Some of these islanders dutifully recited for us their ancient law: “Take no more from the sea in one day than there are people in your village. If you observe this rule, the bonito will run well again tomorrow.

no one can absolutely control the direction of his life; but each person can certainly influence it. The armchair explorers who complain that they never got their “one lucky shot” were never really infected by the incurable drive to explore. Those who have the bug—go.

our mouths are wounds that speak in tongues of healing. we say, sacrifice. we mean, murder. our lips arered for a reason.

So I fell into the space between my body & the ground — a longing named gravity. A desire born impossibly hungry.

Let our bodies try To ford a wider time, Our hands not know The other shore.

I called from the wrong side of a fire door to tell you that I might come home. static and silence. then you said, don’t.

No great city has an abundance of parking.

In a country where you can get to the moon, God help you if you want to cross the street.

The typical U.S. resident walked three miles a day a century ago; today the average is less than a quarter mile.14

Human beings had polluted the seawater and mechanically destroyed the nearby coast; all life had paid this price. Often, in airports, on sidewalks, at restaurants, children and adults alike stop me to ask about barracuda and sharks; killer whales; the deadly sorcery of the Bermuda Triangle; the Loch Ness Monster. When I saw Le Veyron, I believed that the sea’s most monstrous force doesn’t live in Loch Ness. It lives in us.

The train began to move. Yves looked stunned for a moment, Eric raised his eyes from Yves' face to say good-bye to all the others. Yves trotted along the platform, then suddenly leapt up on the step, holding on with one hand, and kissed Eric hard on the mouth. "Ne m'oublie pas," he whispered. "You are all I have in this world.

Robert Polidori photographs of Chernobyl and Pripyat, a ghost town that formerly housed the nuclear-plant workers. Or the Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre images of Detroit, the images of abandoned auto plants and once-grand theaters. And the Seph Lawless images of the vacant, decrepit shopping malls that closed after the 2008 crash.

Speaking of high-end shoe designers, in 2011 it was fascinating to see the design company of Christian Louboutin try to stop the company Yves Saint Laurent from producing high heels with red soles, claiming that Louboutin was the originator of the red sole. Louboutin lost, and I was glad. He was not the first person to paint a sole, and I am wary of patenting a color, like Tiffany blue. Why should we grant that entire history to Louboutin and say there are no predecessors and should be no successors?

O, how much kindness there is between the thought of violence & it’s fulfilment.

In each painting, I think, it’s as if  God were giving up on finishing the world.

Celle qui ruine l'etre, la beaute . . .

لكي تحييَ ينبغي عليكِ أن تعبري الموت، فالحضور الأنقى هو الدم المراق.

The best religion or practice is the one that makes us better. (42)

[C]hange your thinking, your interpretation of he world, change the way you see! To change the way you see is to change the world. (50)

Advertising is the price companies pay for being unoriginal.

I prefer to shock rather than to bore through repetition.

What is important in a dress is the woman who is wearing it.” YVES SAINT LAURENT

...almost all roads in modern fashion lead back to Yves Saint Laurent.

At dawn, a ray of sunlight slanted from the steeple of St. Antoine's church, glanced off a window on Grant Street and finally alighted on a beer can lying in the middle of the pavement.

* We note that the Library has not had fire alarm drills for the last two hundred years. This is because we found the two default responses unhelpful. These being "running away screaming" or "resigning yourself to death while clutching your favourite books." Librarians with more useful suggestions should contact Yves via email and attach a full benefit-threat analysis.

To enlarge the human perspective, to build on knowledge for future generations, to identify dangers, and to chart the course to a better world: If these are the goals of the explorer, then everyone—voyager, scientist and citizen, parent and child—is engaged in humanity’s momentous expedition.

There are many greedy and clever human animals in this world, but few human beings. Authentic human beings are so rare that I would even go so far as to say that we do not live in a truly human world.

Quoting Father Seraphim: Our life hangs only by a breath. It is the thread that links you to the Father, the Source, which brought you into being. Be conscious of this thread, and go where you will. (27)

At present, I am particularly excited by "bad taste." I have the deep feeling that there exists in the very essence of bad taste a power capable of creating those things situated far beyond what is traditionally termed "The Work of Art." I wish to play with human feeling, with its "morbidity" in a cold and ferocious manner.

In other words, "free markets" ideology, with its libertarian idealism, has in fact produced Mussolini-style corporatism. And until we learn to call the resulting looting by its proper name, it is certain to continue.

Animosity towards the automobile was so great that in 1906 Woodrow Wilson, then president of Princeton University, declared, “Possession of an auto car is such an ostentatious display of wealth that it will stimulate socialism.”16

The assumption that economic expansion is driven by consumer demand—more consumers equals more growth—is a fundamental part of the economic theories that underlie the model. In other words, their conclusions are predetermined by their assumptions. What the model actually tries to do is to use neoclassical economic theory to predict how much economic growth will result from various levels of population growth, and then to estimate the emissions growth that would result. Unfortunately, as Yves Smith says about financial economics, any computer model based on mainstream economic theory “rests on a seemingly rigorous foundation and elaborate math, much like astrology.” In short, if your computer model assumes that population growth causes emissions growth, then it will tell you that fewer people will produce fewer emissions. Malthus in, Malthus out.

All I knew was the way that colour spoke to me, as if I'd been waiting my whole life to find it, to set it free." He thought for a moment. "There's always been something about blue. A thousand years ago Yves Klein said it was the essence of colour itself: the colour that stood for all other colours.

He cut the heart out of me all peach stone, & crushed me to pieces pomegranate.

& in the end I carved my scream from my throat myself. violence always my first instinct

A craftsman who doesn't know a thing about his customers cannot serve them properly.

I was introduced to the void by the rebuffed nothingness. Reddedilmiş hiçlik tarafından boşlukla tanıştırıldım.

Mais les livres représentaient-ils la vie ou ne cherchaient-ils qu'à nous en consoler?

Dreaming is a language

Vergiss nicht zu leben. Denn irgendwann ist die Achterbahnfahrt zu Ende. Und ein zweites Ticket steht nicht zum Verkauf.

I imagine my heart a revolver warm as your chest beneath my hand & every chamber of it open & totally empty. spin the cylinder of its atrium & watch how nothing comes out.

I sense you in the secret of all the paintings I love. I hear you stumbling at the stony core of the only books I read, the few I know how to read.

My paintings are but the ashes of my art

Urban planners and politicians encounter less political opposition when building highways in marginalized, vulnerable communities.

A major principle of Canadian foreign aid has been that where the USA wields its big stick, Canada carries its police baton and offers a carrot.

As Martin Luther King once said, “Urban transit systems in most American cities have become a genuine civil rights issue.”34

Maman me parle de cette période avec nostalgie, et la petite fille de cinq ans que je suis ne comprend pas pourquoi quand on est heureux quelque part, on n’y reste pas toute sa vie.

what motivated explorers? What inspired Magellan, battered by South America’s strange williwaw winds, to hold to his course through an unknown strait with no guarantee that it would lead to an untraversed sea? What makes adult and child alike feel so desperate at the prospect of abandoning their advance along shining rails, across shining seas, that lead beyond the boundaries of their familiar world? What inspires an explorer to undertake a voyage with no destination, to search with no objective, to travel with no itinerary other than the uncharted, the unfathomed, the unexpected?

That day in Chartres they had passed through town and watched women kneeling at the edge of the water, pounding clothes against a flat, wooden board. Yves had watched them for a long time. They had wandered up and down the old crooked streets, in the hot sun; Eric remembered a lizard darting across a wall; and everywhere the cathedral pursued them. It is impossible to be in that town and not be in the shadow of those great towers; impossible to find oneself on those plains and not be troubled by that cruel and elegant, dogmatic and pagan presence. The town was full of tourists, with their cameras, their three-quarter coats, bright flowered dresses and shirts, their children, college insignia, Panama hats, sharp, nasal cries, and automobiles crawling like monstrous gleaming bugs over the laming, cobblestoned streets. Tourist buses, from Holland, from Denmark, from Germany, stood in the square before the cathedral. Tow-haired boys and girls, earnest, carrying knapsacks, wearing khaki-colored shorts, with heavy buttocks and thighs, wandered dully through the town. American soldiers, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes, leaned over bridges, entered bistros in strident, uneasy, smiling packs, circled displays of colored post cards, and picked up meretricious mementos, of a sacred character. All of the beauty of the town, all the energy of the plains, and all the power and dignity of the people seemed to have been sucked out of them by the cathedral. It was as though the cathedral demanded, and received, a perpetual, living sacrifice. It towered over the town, more like an affliction than a blessing, and made everything seem, by comparison with itself, wretched and makeshift indeed. The houses in which the people lived did not suggest shelter, or safety. The great shadow which lay over them revealed them as mere doomed bits of wood and mineral, set down in the path of a hurricane which, presently, would blow them into eternity. And this shadow lay heavy on the people, too. They seemed stunted and misshapen; the only color in their faces suggested too much bad wine and too little sun; even the children seemed to have been hatched in a cellar. It was a town like some towns in the American South, frozen in its history as Lot's wife was trapped in salt, and doomed, therefore, as its history, that overwhelming, omnipresent gift of God, could not be questioned, to be the property of the gray, unquestioning mediocre.

But then we remembered. What did time matter when one was on an endless voyage?... And so we resigned ourselves and cultivated the virtue of patience. Only then did I notice that my back had begun hurting again.

To say that Doctor Tenace loved death is probably too much, but decay, especially mental or soul decay fascinated him. He was hypnotised by the last minutes of all sorts of living creatures struggling with death.

The car is “a system of human dissociation.”5 Behind the wheel of their private mobile spaces, drivers are far less likely to mix and mingle than pedestrians. By isolating drivers from fellow human beings, driving can engender hostility and mistrust. Pedestrians, cyclists and public transit riders are forced into a greater awareness of their environment and as a result are more likely to concern themselves with its wellbeing. Like

It is the conscious Breath that comes from the unnamable space where inspiration originates, and expiration returns—that space without boundaries, which we are sometimes fortunate enough to taste when silence reigns within us.

…in front of any painting, figurative or non-figurative I felt more and more that the lines and all their consequences, the contours, the forms, the perspectives, the compositions, became exactly like the bars on the window of a prison. Far away, amidst colour, dwelt life and liberty. And in front of the picture I felt imprisoned, and I believe it is because of that same feeling of imprisonment that van Gogh exclaimed, ‘I long to be freed from I know now what horrible cage!

Africa, despite all the cruelty it suffered, has never wanted to call for an interracial war of blacks against whites. This is what makes the greatness of the African people, This generous and just attitude of Africa must remain unchanged.

Above all, he encourages her to paint, nodding with approval at even her most unusual experiments with color, light, rough brushwork [...]. She explains to him that she believes painting should reflect nature and life [...]. He nods, although he adds cautiously that he wouldn't want her to know too much about life - nature is a fine subject, but life is grimmer than she can understand. He thinks it is good for her to have something satisfying to do at home; he loves art himself; he sees her gift and wants her to be happy. He knows the charming Morisots. He has met the Manets, and always remarks that they are a good family, despite Édouard's reputation and his immoral experiments (he paints loose women), which make him perhaps too modern - a shame, given his obvious talent. In fact, Yves takes her to many galleries. They attend the Salon every year, with nearly a million other people, and listen to the gossip about favorite canvases and those critics disdain. Occasionally they stroll in the museums in the Louvre, where she sees art students copying paintings and sculpture, even an unchaperoned woman here and there (surely Americans). She can't quite bring herself to admire nudes in his presence, certainly not the heroic males; she knows she will never paint from a nude model herself. Her own formal training was in the private studios of an academican, copying from plaster casts with her mother present, before she married.

And the word for breath is the same as the word for spirit; this is true not only in Hebrew (ruakh), but also in Greek (pneuma) and Latin (spiritus). Thus Yeshua and Miriam shared the same breath and allowed themselves to be borne by the same spirit.

Silner's hut" we called it. There he spent his free time, surrounded by boxes and cans (we use the spar deck to store everything that we have no other space for), doing those mysterious things that all photographers seem to do when left to themselves.

If his submarine were caught on the surface in broad daylight, the mission to free Napoleon Bonaparte from exile would be over before it began. Delacroix lowered his spyglass and called down through the hatch. “Prepare to dive the boat!” Three men quickly lowered the sail in the gusting wind. With the bright sun at his back, Delacroix took one last look at the approaching frigate before ducking below and closing the copper hatch. His nostrils flared at the rank odor of fifteen men packed together inside the cramped quarters. “Did they spot us?” asked Yves Beaumont,

How many of these people rise to their feet or fall to their knees in cathedrals, temples, synagogues, mosques, reciting the word of their God by rote, all the while ignoring the living word of God just outside the window? How many read scriptures that praise their God’s creation but acquiesce when damage is done to it? Daily newspapers report on politicians, presidents, ayatollahs who righteously and regularly proclaim that they lead their nations in accordance with the word of their God; we hear of martyrs who have died because they have refused to repudiate their beliefs, of revolutions, civil wars, holy wars—all waged by people who are willing to fight for the right to believe what they choose. They choose to believe in a God who has issued divine commands; how many honor His divine commands to safeguard the environment? How many instead behave as latter-day Peters, vociferously attesting to their belief in God but denying Him when the opportunity arises to protect the environment as holy writings mandate?

…this foundation [John Templeton], with a capital of more than one billion, distributes tens of millions each year to researchers who want to study the links between science, religion and spirituality. . . Because if faith moves mountains, money does it more easily ("Car si la foi déplace des montagnes, l’argent le fait plus facilement.")

In 1902, Marcellin P. Berthelot, often called the founder of modern organic chemistry, was one of France's most celebrated scientists—if not the world's. He was permanent secretary of the French Academy, having succeeded the giant Louis Pasteur, the renowned microbiologist. Unlike Delage, an agnostic, Berthelot was an atheist—and militantly so.

Canadian mining companies have been the main beneficiaries of the World Bank’s push to promote capitalist mineral extraction in Africa. But in their quest for profits Canadian businesses have squeezed out domestic miners and solidified the colonial economic pattern whereby foreigners export the continent’s raw materials while African countries import value added products.

FV: Hasn't all art, in a way, submitted to words - reduced itself to the literary...admitted its failure through all the catalogues and criticism, monographs and manifestos — ML: Explanations? FV: Exactly. All the artistry, now, seems expended in the rhetoric and sophistry used to differentiate, to justify its own existence now that so little is left to do. And who's to say how much of it ever needed doing in the first place? [...] Nothing's been done here but the re-writing of rules, in denial that the game was already won, long ago, by the likes of Duchamp, Arp, or Malevich. I mean, what's more, or, what's less to be said than a single black square? ML: Well, a triangle has fewer sides, I suppose. FV: Then a circle, a line, a dot. The rest is academic; obvious variations on an unnecessary theme, until you're left with just an empty canvas - which I'm sure has been done, too. ML: Franz Kline, wasn't it? Or, Yves Klein - didn't he once exhibit a completely empty gallery? No canvases at all. FV: I guess, from there, to not exhibit anything - to do absolutely nothing at all - would be the next "conceptual" act; the ultimate multimedia performance, where all artforms converge in negation and silence. And someone's probably already put their signature to that, as well. But even this should be too much, to involve an artist, a name. Surely nothing, done by no-one, is the greatest possible artistic achievement. Yet, that too has been done. Long, long ago. Before the very first artists ever walked the earth.

What is harvested in the world is composed of four elements: water, earth, wind, and light. What God harvests is also composed of four elements: faith [pistis], hope [elpis], love [agap], and contemplation [gnosis]. Our earth is faith, for she gives us roots. Water is our hope, for it slakes our thirst. Wind [pneuma] is the love [agap] through which we grow; and light is the contemplation [gnosis] through which we ripen.

As students, we have all known two types of teachers, the pedantic and the inspiring. The former have a definite method and operate according to well-established habits; the latter need neither, because they know the subject through and through, Indeed, we may say that teaching methods, which generate subjective habits, are but poor substitutes for the kind of objective intimacy with the subject matter to be taught, which we call 'habitus

This book is not at all an incitement to racial hatred or to vengeance regarding the crimes that the white race may have committed towards the black race, not at all. The white race has already paid the price for its crimes: it has lost its purity, its innocence and this is due to the crimes that it has committed. A people that is responsible for and guilty of such crimes becomes embittered and its level of civilization fades away bit by bit.

La transmutation totale de la jalousie est possible (même si elle est rare). Elle porte alors le nom de compersion (terme anglais n'ayant pas encore d'équivalent français): le sentiment de joie et de réjouissance lorsqu'une personne que l'on aime vit des instants heureux ou partage du plaisir avec quelqu'un d'autre. C'est une forme d'empathie épurée, où l'on devient capable de partager le bonheur de l'être aimé au-delà de toute aspiration égoïste.

Consistently, [Yves] Congar emphasized the distinction between Tradition and traditionalism. The latter was an unyielding commitment to the past. The former was a living principle of commitment to the Beginning, a process that required creativity, inspiration, and a spirit of openness to the present as well as respect for the past. Two of Congar's works, on reform in the church and on the theology of the laity, proved especially controversial...Congar believed that reform was a vital and necessary dimension of the church. This was rooted in the distinction between the church and the kingdom of God and in the intermingling in the church of both divine and human elements. In light of the church's constant temptation to revert to institutionalism, it was always necessary to allow room for the prophetic voice, issuing from the margins, even though this might mean attending to uncomfortable truths.

Today, it is not up to Africa to tell the white race to examine itself. It is especially up to herself to do its own self-examination. It has to forgive once and for all, to stop blaming whites and decrying their misdeeds and the causes of their actual misfortune. It must dare to look itself directly into its own eyes, see things as they are today in its own house, amongst Africans themselves, and have the courage to say and recognize what they see in this house.

For myself, I wouldn't have lifted a finger to own a Rolex, a pair of Nikes or a BMW Z3; in fact, I had never succeeded in identifying the slightest difference between designer goods and non-designer goods. In the eyes of the world, I was clearly wrong. I was aware of this: I was in a minority, and consequently in the wrong. There had to be a difference between Yves Saint-Laurent shirts and other shirts, between Gucci moccasins and Andre moccasins. I was alone in not perceiving this difference; it was an infirmity which I could not cite as grounds for condemning the world. Does one ask a blind man to set himself up as an expert on post-impressionist painting? Through my blindness, however involuntary, I set myself apart from a living human reality powerful enough to incite both devotion and crime. These youths, through their half-savage instincts, undoubtedly discerned the presence of beauty; their desire was laudable, and perfectly in keeping with social norms; it was merely a question of rectifying the inappropriate way in which it was expressed.

How many times have we heard an African official or a “black authority” saying, “We blacks, we are cursed, it is as if we were destined to remain inferior, retarded, to remain Negroes! Yes, we are cursed, we will never develop as the Asians or the whites do, we are not capable, mentally or intellectually, we are condemned to remain Negroes forever, always behind the others, cursed”! I have heard similar words coming from the mouth of ministers, ambassadors, African diplomats, some expressing themselves in front of their young children, who drank their words.

Solnit explains: “Only citizens familiar with their city as both symbolic and practical territory, able to come together on foot and accustomed to walking about their city, can revolt. Few remember that the ‘right of the people peaceably to assemble’ is listed in the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, along with freedom of the press, of speech, and of religion, as critical to a democracy. While other rights are easily recognized, the elimination of the possibility of such assemblies through urban design, automotive dependence, and other factors is hard to trace and seldom framed as a civil rights issue.”29

Puis elle s’avisa que la lettre pourrait être utile, la défroissa soigneusement sur son couvre—pied et la relut en se rongeant les ongles. Quand elle eut une bonne demi—douzaine de rognures, elle les rassembla entre le pouce et l’index, défit le pommeau de cuivre d’un montant de son lit et les laissa tomber dedans, l’air grave et solennel. Depuis une cinquantaine d’années, elle accumulait ainsi ses rognures et avait déjà rempli les deux montants du pied. C’était une des rares et modesres joies de son existence solitaire que de se figurer en esprit de temps à autre la masse qu’elles formeraient si on les rassemblait dans un seau. (chapitre 28)

Sosem értettem, hogyan csinálják azok, akik egész életükben minimalisták. Őszintén szólva még Mondriant sem értem, aki pedig nem kifejezetten minimalista, de a De Stilj értelmét sosem fogtam fel. Eleinte biztos tök jó volt Mondriannak lenni, és a figuratív fákról áttérni a fekete vonalak és színes négyzetek alotta kétdimenziós és geometrius világba. Jól érzi magát tőle az ember. Jóval kevesebb gond van vele. Nem kell azzal gyötörnie magát, hogy arcképet, széket vagy csendéletet fessen. Reggel felkel, és csinál egy piros négyzetet meg két sárgát. Vagy Yves Klein azzal a faszom kékkel. Ó, anyám, milyen idegesítő Klein faszom kékje. Eleinte biztos jól érezte magát, amikor a kék képeit csinálta. Biztos azt gondolta, nagy ötlet. Biztos neki is jóval kevesebb gondja volt vele, még kevesebb, mint Mondriannak. Sosem kellett azon töprengnie, mit fessen, még csak azon sem, hogy egy négyzet vagy két négyzet vagy egy téglalap és öt négyzet legyen, mindig ugyanazt a kéket festette, az egész képet kékre. (…) Szóval fárasztó lehet Mondriannak és Kleinnek lenni egy életen át, kész fejlövés. Képzelem Klein feleségét, egy volt neki: „Szerelmem, gyere és nézd meg mit festettem!” Klein felesége megérkezett, és minthogy szerette, meg kellett játszania magát, és felkiáltania: „Szerelmem, ez gyönyörű! Még egy kék kép! Olyan büszke vagyok rád! Hogy jutott eszedbe?

For almost forty years now, I have lived on the ocean. I have dedicated myself to the sea, and wholly consecrated myself to it. I have explored depths that, until then, were unknown. I have had good days and bad days. I have dived in the waters of incredible transparency, and I have experienced the violence of waves like those at Europa, which tore the Calypso from its anchorage and battered its aging carcass with elemental fury. But, despite all the dangers, all the fatigue, all the sacrifices, I have never regretted the choice I made. The sea, in the final account, always brought me more joy than pain. And that was true in this case also; for I had the pleasure of seeing us all together again - our entire team, gathered under a blue sky, on a blue sea. Once more, the sea had refused to exact a price for our audacity and our curiosity; and once more I was grateful to her for her generosity. -P219

BOOKS RECOMMENDED BY KATHLEEN MCGOWAN The Brother of Jesus and the Lost Teachings of Christianity, Jeffrey J. Butz Excellent account of early Christianity and its factions. Rev. Jeff’s understanding of Greek translations was a revelation for me. A rare scholarly work that is entirely readable and entertaining. The Woman with the Alabaster Jar, Margaret Starbird A pioneering book in Magdalene research, Starbird was one of the first to assert the theory of Magdalene as bride. Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor, Susan Haskins The definitive Magdalene reference book. Massacre at Montsegur, Zoé Oldenbourg Classic, scholarly account of the final days of the Cathars. The Perfect Heresy, by Stephen O’Shea A very readable book on Cathar history. Chasing the Heretics, Rion Klawinski A history-filled memoir of traveling through Cathar country. Key to the Sacred Pattern, Henry Lincoln Fascinating theories on the sacred geometry of Rennes-le-Château and the Languedoc by one of the authors of Holy Blood, Holy Grail. Relics of Repentance, James F. Forcucci Contains the letters of Claudia Procula, the wife of Pontius Pilate. The Church of Mary Magdalene, Jean Markale Poet and philosopher Jean Markale’s quest for the sacred feminine in Rennes-le-Château. The Gospel of Mary Magdalene and The Gospel of Philip, Jean-Yves Leloup Highly readable French scholarly analyses of important Gnostic material. Nostradamus and the Lost Templar Legacy, Rudy Cambier Professor Cambier explores the prophecies of the Expected One from another angle. Who Wrote the Gospels?, Randel McCraw Helms Fascinating theories from a noted scholar on the authorship of the Gospels. Jesus and the Lost Goddess, Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy Well-researched alternative theories, also provides excellent resource list. Botticelli, Frank Zollner The ultimate coffee table book, with gorgeous reproductions of the art and great analysis of Sandro’s life and career.

La notizia si sparse per il Calypso dalla sala macchine al ponte, e tutti affollarono la mensa per vedere i reperti. Con gesto rituale Ichac alzò le coppe: «Sono state riunite insieme con i manici genelli ad angolo retto fra loro» disse separandole. «Io sto ora separando oggetti che uno specialista imballò in questo modo 2200 anni fa.» L'osservazione fece colpo sulla compagnia. Le coppe erano state tornite e riunite da esseri viventi i cui abili risultati erano passati dalle loro mani alle nostre attraverso un arco di duemila anni. Noi non intendevamo immergerci semplicemente per andare a pescare dei pezzi da museo, ma per avere notizia di quegli artigiani, per sapere come la loro merce delicata potesse giungere fin nelle acque della Gallia, e sopratutto - per marinai come noi - per avere dati sulla nave e sull'abilità marinara della ciurma. Che specie di nave era quella? Come era stata costruita? Che sorta di uomini l'avevano manovrata? Degli indizi sarebbero potuti uscire dalla fanghiglia sotto di noi per raccontare ogni cosa.

There are different styles and levels of pleasure. Of course there is the pleasure of the separate self, with its need for recognition. This ego thrives on seduction, but its type of pleasure is constantly under threat. There will always be people who are not attracted to you, and there is bound to come a time—whether from fatigue, illness, or age—when your power of seduction fades. For those who know only this level of pleasure, growing old is a dreadful drama. They stand to lose their power of seduction, upon which their entire sense of identity is built. Only then do they begin to see that their narcissistic image is an illusion. But we have the capacity to awaken to a state of consciousness and being where pleasure is no longer dependent on this ego. I would not describe it as any sort of nonpleasure but a different pleasure, a different quality of relationship. The old “I” has tremendous difficulty in accepting and understanding this pleasure. Nevertheless, there are certain privileged moments in our existence when we are given a taste of this other pleasure, and the ability to appreciate it, and to understand that the old pleasures, the ones to which we are often most attached, are not the only ones. Sometimes we must undergo hardships, breakups, and narcissistic wounds, which shatter the flattering image that we had of ourselves, in order to discover two truths: that we are not who we thought we were; and that the loss of a cherished pleasure is not necessarily the loss of true happiness and well-being.

Our families were matriarchs shaded by false patriarchs, but with good reason. Men are held in higher regard than women in our village and beyond, respected far more easily and believed much more quickly. It wasn't always this wya, though.

Using NumPy considerably reduces the execution time to about 88 milliseconds. However, there is even a package specifically dedicated to this kind of task. It is called numexpr, for “numerical expressions.” It compiles the expression to improve upon the performance of the general NumPy functionality by, for example, avoiding in-memory copies of ndarray objects along the way:

We still do not know what Yeshua really said. We know only what a number of hearers and witnesses have heard. Scripture consists of what has been heard, not what has been said.

Costs in employee time. To the debit side of the ledger must also be added the transactional costs of metrics: the expenditure of employee time by those tasked with compiling and processing the metrics—not to speak of the time required to actually read them. That is exacerbated by the “reporting imperative”—the perceived need to constantly generate information, even when nothing significant is going on. Sometimes the metric of success is the number and size of the reports generated, as if nothing is accomplished unless it is extensively documented. Those within the organization end up spending more and more time compiling data, writing reports, and attending meetings at which the data and reports are coordinated. So, as the heterodox management consultants Yves Morieux and Peter Tollman note, employees work longer and harder at activities that add little to the real productiveness of their organization, while sapping their enthusiasm.

la tesis de la emergencia de la vida como mero resultado del azar, en un Universo que no hubiese sido concebido de antemano para favorecer la aparición de la vida, resulta imposible de sostener.

En fait, la poésie, c’est ce qui vise un objet — cet être-ci, en son absolu, ou l’être même, la présence du monde, en son unité — alors même et précisément qu’aucun texte ne peut les dire. Elle est ce qui s’attache, c’est là sa responsabilité, à ce qui ne peut être dénommé avec un mot de la langue : et parce que l’au-delà de la dénomination, c’est l’intensité et la plénitude dont nous avons besoin de nous souvenir. L’Un, la Présence, elle peut y « penser » dans l’écriture, car les relations inusuelles que les formes sonores au sein du vers établissent entre les mots défont les codes, neutralisent les significations conceptuelles, et ouvrent donc comme un champ, pour de l’inconnu, au-delà. Mais même dans un poème les mots formulent, ils substituent la signification, la représentation à l’unité pressentie, et c’est donc l’insatisfaction qui l’emporte. Insatisfaction devant ce fait textuel, où la grande intuition se perd, non sans laisser toutefois le scintillement d’un sillage. La poésie, c’est ce qui descend de niveau en niveau dans son propre texte toujours en métamorphose, descend jusqu’en ce point où, s’étant en somme perdue, dans un pays d’aucun nom ni d’aucune route, elle renonce à aller plus loin, sachant tout de même que l’essentiel, c’est ce qui se dérobe encore, au-delà de ces lieux étranges. Le texte n’est pas son vrai lieu, ce n’est que son chemin de l’heure d’avant, son passé. — Et si quelqu’un, dans ces conditions, lit un poète sans s’obliger à son texte, est-ce là le trahir ? (...) En bref, c’est retrouver de la poésie l’esprit de responsabilité — celle-ci serait-elle velléité, simplement — et la qualité d’espérance. ... Car tout poème est par rapport à « mon semblable, mon frère » un mouvement d’espérance : ce dernier ne va-t-il pas faire un pas, à son tour, vers l’être de finitude ?

En una conferencia con ocasión de los veinte años del Vaticano II, el padre Yves Congar sostiene que el Concilio se esforzó por responder a estas primeras manifestaciones de una crisis que se expandió en los años que lo siguieron. Habla de un «cambio socio-cultural cuya amplitud, radicalidad, rapidez y carácter cósmico no tienen equivalente en ningún otro período de la Historia»[7]

Yves treats my wife as if she were a plaything, and continually assures me that she is charming. I find her as exasperating as the cicalas on my roof; and when I am alone at home, side by side with this little creature twanging the strings of her long-necked guitar, facing this marvellous panorama of pagodas and mountains, I am overcome by sadness almost to tears.

One amusing recollection comes back to me of that evening. On our return, we had by mistake turned into a street inhabited by a multitude of ladies of doubtful reputation. I can still see that big fellow Yves, struggling with a whole band of tiny little 'mousmes' of twelve or fifteen years of age, who barely reached up to his waist, and were pulling him by the sleeves, eager to lead him astray. Astonished and indignant, he repeated, as he extricated himself from their clutches, "Oh, this is too much!" so shocked was he at seeing such mere babies, so young, so tiny, already so brazen and shameless.

The elders kept their thoughts in the higher realms and thereby attracted the supreme light toward the lower ones. Because of this, things came in abundance and thrived, according to the strength of the thought. And this is the secret of the oil of Elisha, as well as of the handful of flour and the jar of oil of Elijah. It was because of these things that our masters, blessed of memory, said that when a man joins with his wife with his thought anchored in the higher realms, this thought attracts the higher light downward, and this light settles in the very drop [of semen] upon which he is concentrating and meditating, as it was for the jar of oil. This drop thereby finds itself linked always to the dazzling light. This is the secret of: Before you were formed in the womb, I knew you ( Jer 1:5). This is because the dazzling light was already linked to the drop of this righteous man in the moment of sexual love [between his parents], after the thoughts of this drop had been linked to the higher realms, thus attracting the dazzling light downward. You must understand this fully. You will then grasp a great secret regarding the God of Abraham and Isaac, and Jacob. These fathers’ thoughts

They also remind us of the importance of the imagination.

When this faculty of imagination is not kept alive, there is no more story to be told, and institutions begin to stiffen and become dogmatic. Their objectifications then take on the quality of absolutes. When imagination becomes stuck or frozen, creation and poetry are no longer possible, and this also closes the door to democratic processes as well the arts and sciences. If people lack imagination, how can they find solutions to the challenges of life?

It was not only at the moment of his manifestation that he made an offering of his life, but since the beginning of the world that he gave his life in offering.

Light and darkness, life and death, right and left, are brothers and sisters. They are inseparable. This is why goodness is not always good, violence not always violent, life not always enlivening, death not always deadly.19

The shepherds had talked about us, and you decided to sponge,” Kasar reasoned, not asked. “You wanted to rob, but you didn’t think about your death at all. Go ahead and kill him, prince,” he suddenly suggested, looking as if evaluating Yves. Yves looked at the victim, recalled how a couple of years ago his brother took him to the slaughterhouse; there he had to slaughter pigs and sheep under the supervision of butchers and Guluui. He put his palms on his sides and said, “Uh . . . No.” “Do it!” Yves felt a treacherous chill. Something would change if he obeyed . . . “I don’t want to. I don’t kill unarmed people.

Yves gathered courage deep inside himself as he rode all the way to the ancestral long-ruined Matasagaris family seat. Would he be able to turn away from his father — to change the preordained will of God? Would he risk staying and living, just living, instead of commencing the fatal and dangerous Journey? All this for the sake of love that could come to every person, every commoner, but to him — the Prince of Maurirta, love was inaccessible before. He closed his eyes and recalled Miela, the way her silky, light-brown hair danced over her shoulders, the flutter of her velvety lashes, and he knew no peace.

But he never stopped associating rage with gentleness.

There is a certain age at which human nature is desirous of procreation—procreation which must be in beauty and not in deformity; and this procreation is the union of man and woman, and is a divine thing.29

Scripture consists of what has been heard, not what has been said.

So it is with the disciples of God. When they are wise, they perceive the state of each. They are not misled by outward appearances; they consider the disposition of each soul and attune their words accordingly. There are many animals in the world who appear in human form; the wise one gives acorns to pigs, barley, hay, and grass to livestock, bones to dogs, to servants he gives basic lessons; and to his children, the teaching in its entirety.

Cor 15 on the subject of resurrection. [It is important to note that the author uses the words soul and spirit based their original meanings, which are significantly different from their modern usages. In antiquity the Greek psyche, which means soul, did not have the same elevated status that the soul assumed in later Christianity, nor was it confused with spirit (pneuma in Greek), as it later came to be and still is in current usage. For the ancients the soul included aspects of the mortal body, mind, and emotions, as well as something of the spirit transcending them. It was an intermediary reality between the physical and the spiritual. In a further refinement of this intermediation, the nous appears here as that “fine point” of psyche (soul) that is closest to pneuma (spirit).—Trans.

la radiación residual del Big Bang podría ser detectada en el cosmos.

implicaciones

la poésie aussi a rêvé, tout au long de sa longue histoire, les mots lui assurant même, libres qu’ils sont sur la page, un pouvoir de dénier le fait et d’anticiper le possible auquel l’action ne peut accéder. Et, d’autre part, ces mots ne sont pas que les agents du fantasme ou de l’hypothèse gratuite, ils ont pouvoir de prendre recul, de se souvenir de l’universel dans nos situations de hasard, d’apercevoir entre l’extraordinaire et le décidément impossible l’écart qui permettra une action de type nouveau : le poète est donc le rêveur qui met en cause son rêve et a, combien de fois, tenté à sa façon empirique l’étude des lois du rêve, de ses aspects partageables et praticables par tous. La poésie est l’imaginaire qui se défait de ses chaînes et risque alors de se refermer sur la poursuite d’une chimère, mais c’est tout autant le symbole qui porte relief et ouleur dans la pratique d’une nature qui en redevient une terre. Seule en cela ou presque depuis la fin du sacré, la poésie a compris que l’être n’est pas un fait de la matière ou de Dieu, mais une responsabilité qu’il faut prendre : elle est le dire du sens.

La poésie est autant la critique du rêve que sa forme la plus extrême

For Abrams, this is perfectly applied in the poem Tintern Abbey: “an individual confronts a natural scene and makes it abide his question, and the interchange between his mind and nature constitutes the entire poem, which usually poses and resolves a spiritual crisis.”(p.

Yves holds me close. 'I'll take you anywhere you want to go.' And those are the words I've been waiting to hear all my life . . .

Si acheter un modèle deux fois plus cher parce qu’il présente une technologie récente ne provoque pas le double de joie ou de satisfaction, ou une économie de temps ou un confort supplémentaire important, pourquoi l’achète-t-on?

La stratégie de prix utilisée se nomme «écrémage». Les premiers acheteurs payent le gros prix jusqu’à ce que le prix du produit baisse, soit parce qu’un seuil critique d’acheteurs a été atteint (permettant des économies d’échelle), soit parce qu’une autre entreprise lance un produit férocement en concurrence avec l’original.

La stratégie dominante du consommateur devrait être de ne jamais acheter une nouvelle technologie. Il suffit de se rappeler le prix d’un magnétoscope VHS dans les années 1980, celui d’un lecteur DVD dans les années 1990 ou celui d’un lecteur Blu-ray à son arrivée sur le marché. À cette époque, un lecteur Blu-ray pouvait coûter 1000 $ alors qu’aujourd’hui, on peut s’en procurer un pour 10 à 20 fois moins cher!

Les premiers consommateurs payent pour les autres; en d’autres mots, ils subventionnent les prochains utilisateurs. Donc, merci à toi qui fais la file à minuit pour acheter la nouvelle version du gadget, car tu me permets implicitement d’acheter à mon tour l’équivalent de ton produit dans quelque temps, mais à une fraction du prix. La prochaine fois, pourquoi ne pas envoyer un don directement à la classe moyenne et attendre quelques mois?

En effet, tout est planifié, même ton désir de changer. L’humain n’est qu’un pantin dans la main de la consommation.

Posséder quelque chose n’ajoute pas de sens à la vie, mais vivre des moments, oui! Alors quand vient le temps de posséder quelque chose, il faut en maximiser l’utilité et se demander quel sera le bénéfice ou la joie qu’on retirera de chaque dollar payé.

Si notre vie est plutôt vide, peu importe ce qu’on achète, elle sera toujours aussi vide à notre retour à la maison… même si on revient les mains pleines.

L’utilisation du produit sera limitée ou anachronique avec la sortie séquentielle planifiée d’une suite logique de produits. On n’a qu’à penser aux ordinateurs. Aussitôt qu’on en a acheté un, on nous sort un modèle plus beau, plus rapide, plus pratique, plus léger, etc. Tu dépenses, donc tu suis.

wala na akong itatanggi, i admit all this because of my stupidity lalong lumalala 'to. i'm trying my best for yves to forgive me because i don't want to leave with regrets. as for Iovelorn i'm sorry i you got dragged into this. i've apologize to you guys many times already, and i know na hindi n'yo tinatanggap that's why i'm asking you guys to tell me what should i do? i'm willing to do anything para lang mapatawad n'yo ako.

Maybe I’m tired of rooms full of knives & still being the most dangerous thing around.

Crack open the caverns of my heart and see: every chamber has a bullet inside it.

will feel him in the rain, in the wind, in the bite of snow, in the scent of autumn leaves, and in deep and penetrating silence. We might miss him terribly but will never be away from him. Yves returns to joy. As we all will, one day.

Jean-Yves looked up at his mother's face, her greying chignon, her harsh features: it was difficult to feel a rush of tenderness, of affection for this woman; as far back as he could remember, she had never really been one for hugs; it was equally difficult to imagine her in the role of a sensual lover, a slut. He suddenly realised that his father must have been bored shitless his whole life. He felt terribly shocked by this, his hands tensed on the edge of the table: this time it was irreparable, it was definitive. In despair, he tried to recall a moment when he had seen his father beaming, happy, genuinely glad to be alive.

Perché pensiamo all'oceano come a una semplice riserva di cibo, petrolio e minerali? Il mare non è un banco delle occasioni. Siamo accecati dalla cupidigia per le sue grandi ricchezze subacquee. La più grande risorsa dell'oceano non è materiale, ma è data dalla fonte illimitata d'ispirazione e di benessere che ne traiamo. Ma rischiamo di contaminarlo per sempre proprio quando stiamo imparando la sua scienza, la sua arte e la sua filosofia e come vivere nel suo grembo.

A photograph, which used to be a pattern of pigment on a sheet of chemically coated paper, is not a string of numbers, each one representing the brightness and color of a pixel. An image captured on a 4-megapixel camera is a list of 4 million numbers-no small commitment of memory for the device shooting the picture. But these numbers are highly correlated with each other. If one pixel is bright green, the next one over likely to be as well. The actual information contained in the image is much less than 4 million numbers' worth-and it's precisely this fact that makes it possible to have compression, the critical mathematical technology that allows images, videos, music, and text to be stored in much smaller spaces than you'd think. The presence of correlation makes compression possible; actually doing it involves much more modern ideas, like the theory of wavelets developed in the 1970s and 80s by Jean Morlet, Stephane Mallat, Yves Meyer, Ingrid Daubechies, and others; and the rapidly developing area of compressed sensing, which started with a 2005 paper by Emmanuel Candes, Justin Romberg, and Terry Tao, and has quickly become its own active subfield of applied math.

Designers, models and muses all came seeking attention at the Flore. There, bathed in the sunlight, were Betty Catroux, Loulou de la Falaise and Clara Saint, the female triumvirate of the most powerful and seductive fashion designer in Paris,Yves Saint Laurent.Yves himself was rarely seen at the Flore, although

There is a feeling of energy in this accumulation of beauty, a feeling which warms the heart. Your private gallery is a place of hope for those who have faith in man and in his ability not to yield continually to his baser instincts.

Where does the strength of a sovereign really lie? Not in weapons, but in the natural support of his people.

I pray that these ordeals pass for you without leaving bitterness in your heart, the only danger we must fear.

Yeah, some women have it and some go out with you.’ Xav

Rien n'est plus beau qu'un corps nu .Le plus beau vêtement du monde qui puisse habiller une femme c'est le bras de l'homme qu'elle aime ,' Mais pour celle qui n'ont pas eu la chance de trouver ce bonheur , je suis là .                                                             Yves Saint Laurent * لا شيء أجمل من جسد عار أجمل لباس في العالم يمكن أن ترتديه امرأة هو ذراع حبيبها لكن بالنسبة للواتي لم يحالفهن هذا الحظ فأنا هنا أيف سان لوران