A Quote by Italo Calvino

…we can not love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes along its own trajectory and immediately disappears. — © Italo Calvino
…we can not love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes along its own trajectory and immediately disappears.
The whole aspect of the universe changes with this new conception. The idea of force governing the world, of pre-established law, preconceived harmony, disappears to make room for the harmony that Fourier had caught a glimpse of: the one which results from the disorderly and incoherent movements of numberless hosts of matter, each of which goes its own way and all of which hold each other in equilibrium.
The myriad past, it enters us and disappears. Except that within it, somewhere, like diamonds, exist the fragments that refuse to be consumed. Sifting through, if one dares, and collecting them, one discovers the true design.
For me it's a new experience every single time, because - The dance community has a great strength in synergizing immediately. So we recognize that opposed to being competition, which we are in the audition process, once we're on the job is about cohesion, it's about striving to highlight each individual in their own element, while also creating something that is visually tantalizing to the audience. While the ingredients of each movie has been different, the recipe for success is the same, which is to click immediately and make the best possible movie.
Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality - collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way they found each other.
I am sure that everyone will immediately discover how much 'The Brightest Void' and 'The Shadow Self' are entwined with each other but, at the same time, are two independent records which stand on their own.
I'm operating in the gap between the trajectory of modernity and the trajectory of modernism. So what people think is design is not design, it's my attempt to engage with the trajectory of modernity.
My own guess is that quite quickly the machine intelligence will start dreaming machine dreams and thinking machine thoughts, both of which would totally incomprehensible to us. This would then lead to each species, we and the machines, moving off on to its own separate life trajectory.
Must you write complete sentences each time, every time? Perish the thought. If your work consists only of fragments and floating clauses, the Grammar Police aren't going to come and take you away. Even William Strunk, that Mussolini of rhetoric, recognized the delicious pliability of language. "It is an old observation," he writes, "that the best writers sometimes disregard the rules of rhetoric." Yet he goes on to add this thought, which I urge you to consider: "Unless he is certain of doing well, [the writer] will probably do best to follow the rules."
Order is the disposition of things in which each gives to the other its room, its own proper place. That's the external aspect. The other is that order that springs from love: there's no other way of establishing order except through love.
You don't think progress goes in a straight line, do you? Do you recognize that it is an ascending, accelerating, maybe even exponential curve? It takes hell's own time to get started, but when it goes it goes like a bomb.
What I always say is, 'To each his own.' Everybody has a different trajectory or path in life.
As time goes by, as time goes by, the whip-crack of the years, the precipice of illusions, the ravine that swallows up all human endeavour except the struggle to survive.
You set out to be a footballer, when you're young, and you think I'd love to do that. There's plenty of things along the way that could change that, and it's the same thing now with being a manager, it's time will tell how it goes.
My heart shoots into my throat every time I think I see his loping walk, or catch sight of some floppy brown hair on a boy - but it's never him, and each time it isn't, my heart does a reverse trajectory down into the very pit of my stomach.
For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments.
Each section of the British Isles has its own way of laughing, except Wales, which doesn't.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!