1.The Science of Architecture, followed out to its full extent, is one of the noblest of those which have reference only to the creations of human minds.
It is not merely a science of the rule and compass, it does not consist only in the observation of just rule, or of fair proportion: it is, or ought to be, a science of feeling more than of rule, a ministry to the mind, more than to the eye. If we consider how much less the beauty and majesty of a building depend upon its pleasing certain prejudices of the eye, than upon its rousing certain trains of meditation in the mind, it will show in a moment how many intricate questions of feeling are involved in the raising of an edifice; it will convince us of the truth of a proposition, which might at first have appeared startling, that no man can be an architect, who is not a metaphysician.
2. To the illustration of the department of this noble science which may be designated the Poetry of Architecture, this and some future articles will be dedicated. It is this peculiarity of the art which constitutes its nationality; and it will be found as interesting as it is useful, to trace in the distinctive characters of the architecture of nations, not only its adaptation to the situation and climate in which it has arisen, but its strong similarity to, and connection with, the prevailing turn of mind by which the nation who first employed it is distinguished. Read More
Some years ago, in conversation with an artist whose works, perhaps, alone, in the present day, unite perfection of drawing with resplendence of color, the writer made some inquiry respecting the general means by which this latter quality was most easily to be attained.
The reply was as concise as it was comprehensive—”Know what you have to do, and do it”—comprehensive, not only as regarded the branch of art to which it temporarily applied, but as expressing the great principle of success in every direction of human effort; for I believe that failure is less frequently attributable to either insufficiency of means or impatience of labor, than to a confused understanding of the thing actually to be done; and therefore, while it is properly a subject of ridicule, and sometimes of blame, that men propose to themselves a perfection of any kind, which reason, temperately consulted, might have shown to be impossible with the means at their command, it is a more dangerous error to permit the consideration of means to interfere with our conception, or, as is not impossible, even hinder our acknowledgment of goodness and perfection in themselves. And this is the more cautiously to be remembered; because, while a man’s sense and conscience, aided by Revelation, are always enough, if earnestly directed, to enable him to discover what is right, neither his sense, nor conscience, nor feeling, are ever enough, because they are not intended, to determine for him what is possible. He knows neither his own strength nor that of his fellows, neither the exact dependence to be placed on his allies nor resistance to be expected from his opponents. These are questions respecting which passion may warp his conclusions, and ignorance must limit them; but it is his own fault if either interfere with the apprehension of duty, or the acknowledgment of right. And, as far as I have taken cognizance of the causes of the many failures to which the efforts of intelligent men are liable, more especially in matters political, they seem to me more largely to spring from this single error than from all others, that the inquiry into the doubtful, and in some sort inexplicable, relations of capability, chance, resistance, and inconvenience, invariably precedes, even if it do not altogether supersede, the determination of what is absolutely desirable and just. Nor is it any wonder that sometimes the too cold calculation of our powers should reconcile us too easily to our shortcomings, and even lead us into the fatal error of supposing that our conjectural utmost is in itself well, or, in other words, that the necessity of offences renders them inoffensive. Read More
One confidential evening, not three months ago, Lionel Wallace told me this story of the Door in the Wall. And at the time I thought that so far as he was concerned it was a true story.
He told it me with such a direct simplicity of conviction that I could not do otherwise than believe in him. But in the morning, in my own flat, I woke to a different atmosphere, and as I lay in bed and recalled the things he had told me, stripped of the glamour of his earnest slow voice, denuded of the focussed shaded table light, the shadowy atmosphere that wrapped about him and the pleasant bright things, the dessert and glasses and napery of the dinner we had shared, making them for the time a bright little world quite cut off from every-day realities, I saw it all as frankly incredible. “He was mystifying!” I said, and then: “How well he did it!. . . . . It isn’t quite the thing I should have expected him, of all people, to do well.”
Afterwards, as I sat up in bed and sipped my morning tea, I found myself trying to account for the flavour of reality that perplexed me in his impossible reminiscences, by supposing they did in some way suggest, present, convey—I hardly know which word to use—experiences it was otherwise impossible to tell. Read More
This is a test post with a Vimeo video link. Prima luce, cum quibus mons aliud consensu ab eo. Curabitur est gravida et libero vitae dictum. Hi omnes lingua, institutis, legibus inter se differunt.
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Etiam habebis sem dicantur magna mollis euismod. Magna pars studiorum, prodita quaerimus. Quae vero auctorem tractata ab fiducia dicuntur. Cum ceteris in veneratione tui montes, nascetur mus. Morbi fringilla convallis sapien, id pulvinar odio volutpat. Ambitioni dedisse scripsisse iudicaretur. At nos hinc posthac, sitientis piros Afros. Petierunt uti sibi concilium totius Galliae in diem certam indicere.
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Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres, quarum. Quam diu etiam furor iste tuus nos eludet? Inmensae subtilitatis, obscuris et malesuada fames. Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra? Donec sed odio operae, eu vulputate felis rhoncus.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
— Robert Frost
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Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres, quarum. Cum ceteris in veneratione tui montes, nascetur mus. Vivamus sagittis lacus vel augue laoreet rutrum faucibus. Me non paenitet nullum festiviorem excogitasse ad hoc. Mercedem aut nummos unde unde extricat, amaras.
When people think about computer science, they imagine people with pocket protectors and thick glasses who code all night.
Morbi odio eros, volutpat ut pharetra vitae, lobortis sed nibh. Hi omnes lingua, institutis, legibus inter se differunt. Vivamus sagittis lacus vel augue laoreet rutrum faucibus. Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra? Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra.
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At 04 hours 10 minutes, ship time, the Niccola was well inside the Theta Gisol solar system. She had previously secured excellent evidence that this was not the home of the Plumie civilization. There was no tuned radiation. There was no evidence of interplanetary travel—rockets would be more than obvious, and a magnetronic drive had a highly characteristic radiation-pattern—so the real purpose of the Niccola’s voyage would not be accomplished here. She wouldn’t find out where Plumies came from.
There might, though, be one or more of those singular, conical, hollow-topped cairns sheltering silicon-bronze plates, which constituted the evidence that Plumies existed. The Niccola went sunward toward the inner planets to see. Such cairns had been found on conspicuous landmarks on oxygen-type planets over a range of some twelve hundred light-years. By the vegetation about them, some were a century old. On the same evidence, others had been erected only months or weeks or even days before a human Space Survey ship arrived to discover them. And the situation was unpromising. It wasn’t likely that the galaxy was big enough to hold two races of rational beings capable of space travel. Back on ancient Earth, a planet had been too small to hold two races with tools and fire. Historically, that problem was settled when Homo sapiens exterminated Homo neanderthalis. It appeared that the same situation had arisen in space. There were humans, and there were Plumies. Both had interstellar ships. To humans, the fact was alarming. The need for knowledge, and the danger that Plumies might know more first, and thereby be able to exterminate humanity, was appalling.
Therefore the Niccola. She drove on sunward. She had left one frozen outer planet far behind. She had crossed the orbits of three others. The last of these was a gas giant with innumerable moonlets revolving about it. It was now some thirty millions of miles back and twenty to one side. The sun, ahead, flared and flamed in emptiness against that expanse of tinted stars.
Jon Baird worked steadily in the Niccola’s radar room. He was one of those who hoped that the Plumies would not prove to be the natural enemies of mankind. Now, it looked like this ship wouldn’t find out in this solar system. There were plenty of other ships on the hunt. From here on, it looked like routine to the next unvisited family of planets. But meanwhile he worked. Opposite him, Diane Holt worked as steadily, her dark head bent intently over a radar graph in formation. The immediate job was the completion of a map of the meteor swarms following cometary orbits about this sun. They interlaced emptiness with hazards to navigation, and nobody would try to drive through a solar system without such a map.
Fictum, deserunt mollit anim italic laborum astutumque! Hi omnes link example lingua, institutis, legibus inter se differunt. Plura mihi bona sunt, inclinet, amari bold petere vellent. A communi underline observantia strikethrough non est recedendum. Non equidem invideo, miror magis posuere velit aliquet. Cum sociis colored text natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient. Ambitioni dedisse scripsisse iudicaretur. Qui ipsorum lingua Celtae, nostra Galli appellantur. Ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquid ex ea commodi consequat.
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Quam temere in vitiis, legem sancimus haerentia. Prima luce, cum quibus mons aliud consensu ab eo. Ab illo tempore, ab est sed immemorabili. Curabitur est gravida et libero vitae dictum.
Prima luce, cum quibus mons aliud consensu ab eo. Tu quoque, Brute, fili mi, nihil timor populi, nihil! Contra legem facit qui id facit quod lex prohibet. Excepteur sint obcaecat cupiditat non proident culpa. A communi observantia non est recedendum. Cras mattis iudicium purus sit amet fermentum. Ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquid ex ea commodi consequat. Inmensae subtilitatis, obscuris et malesuada fames. Ab illo tempore, ab est sed immemorabili. Magna pars studiorum, prodita quaerimus.
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Nihilne te nocturnum praesidium Palati, nihil urbis vigiliae. At nos hinc posthac, sitientis piros Afros. Quam temere in vitiis, legem sancimus haerentia. Donec sed odio operae, eu vulputate felis rhoncus. Ab illo tempore, ab est sed immemorabili. Phasellus laoreet lorem vel dolor tempus vehicula. Magna pars studiorum, prodita quaerimus. Fabio vel iudice vincam, sunt in culpa qui officia. Quam diu etiam furor iste tuus nos eludet? Donec sed odio operae, eu vulputate felis rhoncus.
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Idque Caesaris facere voluntate liceret: sese habere. Sed haec quis possit intrepidus aestimare tellus. Non equidem invideo, miror magis posuere velit aliquet. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus. Quis aute iure reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse. Quisque ut dolor gravida, placerat libero vel, euismod. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisici elit, sed eiusmod tempor incidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Quisque ut dolor gravida, placerat libero vel, euismod. Phasellus laoreet lorem vel dolor tempus vehicula.