In any architecture, there is an equity between the pragmatic function and the symbolic function.
quote by Michael Graves
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Related quotes
The Common Law and Equity
The common law is male
Equity is female.
Each needs the other
For justice to be in order.
The common law is lame
Without equity’s fame.
Equity’s a piece of nonsense
Without common law’s presence.
When the conflicts arise,
Equity should stand tall
But upon the common law.
Both make justice rise.
The common law and equity
What a wonderful blend!
poem by Saintmoses Eromosele
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Allegany Camp
amazing grace circus camp
amazing grace day camp
amazing grace hallelujah jeremy camp
amazing grace jeremy camp
amazing love jeremy camp
amazing place chalet pigeon forge
amazing race church camp
amazing race games for camps
amazing race girl scout camp
amazon camp dutch lodge oven
amazon camp in sweetwater missouri
amazon cast iron dutch lodge camp
amazon dutch oven camp
amazon lodge dutch oven camp
ambassador camp at lake waccamaw nc
ambassador camp inc
ambassador chalet
ambassador chalet at doral
ambassador chalet wgc
amber bowers
amber camp lazlo
amber pow camp
amberg germany dp camp
ambition camp hockey pro
ambler baseball camp
ambleside scotland school camp
ambon pow camp
ambor island pow camp
ambor pow camp
ambulance bower
amc camp dodge
amc camp movie summer
amc camp summer theater
amc little lyford camps
amc movie camp
amc movie camps
amc north west camp bear mountain
amc pinkham notch camp
amc summer camp for s
amc summer camp for s 2007
amc summer camp movies
amc summer movie camp
amc summer movie camp 2007
amc summer movie camp 2008
amc summer movie camp arlington
amc summer movie camp ontario california
amc theater camp hill
amc theatres summer camp
amcmovie camps
amelia earhart in japanese war camp
[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés (With Waving Opalescense In Her Gown)
Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés,
Même quand elle marche on croirait qu'elle danse,
Comme ces longs serpents que les jongleurs sacrés
Au bout de leurs bâtons agitent en cadence.
Comme le sable morne et l'azur des déserts,
Insensibles tous deux à l'humaine souffrance
Comme les longs réseaux de la houle des mers
Elle se développe avec indifférence.
Ses yeux polis sont faits de minéraux charmants,
Et dans cette nature étrange et symbolique
Où l'ange inviolé se mêle au sphinx antique,
Où tout n'est qu'or, acier, lumière et diamants,
Resplendit à jamais, comme un astre inutile,
La froide majesté de la femme stérile.
With Her Pearly, Undulating Dresses
With her pearly, undulating dresses,
Even when she's walking, she seems to be dancing
Like those long snakes which the holy fakirs
Set swaying in cadence on the end of their staffs.
Like the dull sand and the blue of deserts,
Both of them unfeeling toward human suffering,
Like the long web of the ocean's billows,
She unfurls herself with unconcern.
Her glossy eyes are made of charming minerals
And in that nature, symbolic and strange,
Where pure angel is united with ancient sphinx,
Where everything is gold, steel, light and diamonds,
There glitters forever, like a useless star,
The frigid majesty of the sterile woman.
— Translated by William Aggeler
With Waving Opalescence in Her Gown
With waving opalescence in her gown,
Even when she walks along, you think she's dancing.
Like those long snakes which charmers, while entrancing,
Wave with their wands, in cadence, up and down.
Like the sad sands of deserts and their skies,
By human sufferings untouched and free,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Symbols Of A Song
The strength of knowledge and manipulation of words are powerful.
The rhythm of music and the sense of sound are controlling.
When these elements are merged, they form a song.
Two extremes in one mind-blasting theme.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
Have you ever tried studying work, hours upon hours;
And forget everything on the day of the exam.
But if you have heard a song at least three times,
You will find that you have memorised almost half of it.
Perhaps if you put your work into song,
It is guaranteed that you will pass any exam.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
A song can tap into your emotions;
It can change your mood to positive or negative.
It can influence the words you say and the choices you make.
There is always a message being carried.
Whether it makes the fullest of understanding,
Or if it makes no sense at all.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
A song can encourage others to sing along or to dance.
It can boost up worship to God.
It can sooth then motivate others to be cheerful.
It can entertain people and draw them to dance.
This is persuaded by commands in a song,
Or just those soothing music vibes makes you want to move.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
poem by SarahLee Emilaire
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Life in Paradise: 21st Century Style
2000-2001
The “dot com” bubble bursts
Recession
9/11/2001
America attacked!
Our way of life is threatened
Fear sets in
Financial institutions vulnerable!
Economy in a nose dive
What to do?
Everybody fly the flag from your home.
Save housing - Save the economy!
First, everybody needs a home.
The madness begins.
2002-2003
Create laws to increase minority homeownership
California gives birth to the ARMs* and NINJA** loans
Accounting irregularities at Fannie Mae (FNMA) & Freddie Mac (FDMAC) ***
Doors open for Wall Street to invest in Main Street
Without those pesky government regulations
Homeownership increases
...“After all ever since the Great Depression, home values have ALWAYS gone up
And everybody pays their mortgage ”…
WARNING! WARNING! DANGER! DANGER!
AREN”T HOME PRICES INCREASING FASTER THAN INCOME?
…...“No problem; it only takes a little creative mortgage financing and Wall St loves those high yielding mortgages…..
HIGHER RISK - HIGHER YIELD!
Pension funds love high yield.
Buy more and more....
…...“After all ever since the Great Depression, home values have ALWAYS gone up
And everybody pays their mortgage ”…..
WARNING! WARNING! DANGER! DANGER!
AREN”T PENSION FUNDS ONLY ALLOWED TO BUY AAA RATED INVESTMENTS?
...“Problem solved...banks pay the salaries at the Rating Agencies and Ratings Agencies in turn lower the standards to obtain a AAA rating”...
WARNING! WARNING! DANGER! DANGER!
WHO’S WATCHING THE “HEN HOUSE” WHO’S MINDING THE STORE?
...“Who cares?
Everyone is happy
Millions of new jobs created
Millions of new homeowners
[...] Read more
poem by Nancy Chambers
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A Map Of Culture
Culture
Contents
What is Culture?
The Importance of Culture
Culture Varies
Culture is Critical
The Sociobiology Debate
Values, Norms, and Social Control
Signs and Symbols
Language
Terms and Definitions
Approaches to the Study of Culture
Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?
What is Culture?
I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .
Back to Contents
[...] Read more
poem by Nyein Way
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You Can't Know Love
You can't know love,
If it's symbolic.
No you can't know love,
If you're myopic.
No you can't know love,
When trying to cop it...
With a selfishness wished.
Oh no you can't know love,
If it's symbolic.
No you can't know love,
If you're myopic.
No you can't know love,
If you're erotic...
And neurotic a bit.
People claim to wish a bit of romance.
From those they want to snuggle up close,
And hold.
People claim they aim to have one true love.
But also they are wanting satisfaction,
That's ecstatic.
In an everlasting act!
But no you wont know love,
If you're irratic.
Or you wont know love,
If you're dramatic.
Oh no you wont have love...
If uncommited,
It will always exists.
Oh no you can't know love,
If it's symbolic.
No you can't know love,
If you're myopic.
No you can't know love,
If you're erotic...
And neurotic a bit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Transition In Building Worship Utilization
Aya Sophýa Istanbul
church built to honour our God
became prime model
for all mosques to honour Allah
Hagia Sophia Greek
Holy Wisdom
Sancta Sophia Latin
Sancta Sapientia Turkish
designed by the Greek
scientist Isidore of Miletus
who taught physics
in Alexandria Egypt
then Constantinople Bosporus
and Anthemius of Tralles
a Greek professor of Geometry
in Constantinople Byzantium
string construction of ellipse
conic sections elaborate vaulting
of Hagia Sophia incorporate theories
of famed Heron of Alexandria?
utilized to address challenges
presented by problematic building
an expansive dome over large spaces
designed by a physicist
and a mathematician
completed in 537AD rebuilt
by 563 after an earthquake
Aya Sofya an Orthodox
patriarchal basilica
from date of its dedication
in 360 until 1453
serving as cathedral
of Constantinople except
between 1204 and 1261
when it was converted
to a Roman Catholic cathedral
under powerful Latin Patriarch
of Constantinople as the Western
Crusader established Latin Empire
Aya Sofya a mosque
from 1453 until 1931
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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All architecture is great architecture after sunset perhaps architecture is really a nocturnal art, like the art of fireworks.
quote by G.K. Chesterton
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All architecture is great architecture after sunset; perhaps architecture is really a nocturnal art, like the art of fireworks.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
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Believe Glimpse Eureka Synchronicity
glimpse eureka
underlying order
of the universe
synchronicity
in quantum physics
fractal geometry
chaos theory
people love mystery
mysterious things
shock synchronicity
revelation magic moments
happening to pragmatic minds
holds a person fix individuals
in thrall thermal velocity
inertia of motion shocks
greater disbelief surprises
pragmatic
incident synchronistic
soul skeptic
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Does it follow that the house has nothing in common with art and is architecture not to be included in the arts? Only a very small part of architecture belongs to art: the tomb and the monument. Everything else that fulfils a function is to be excluded from the domain of art.
quote by Adolf Loos
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Euro Zero Zero
(vowles, del naja, marshall, tricky, norfolk, locke)
3d
Sitting in my day care
It was day-glo painted
You see me Im a drinker
You see me now Im sainted
Chased by the plaintive
Haunted by the medium
Too high to flow too bored to break the tedium
Glow from my tv set was blue like neon
Activate the remote I put the bbc on
Ive seen this city, so on
Im looking out for no-one
Pilot in my eye it gets blue like neon
It gets blue like neon
It gets blue like neon
Horace andy
Cant see nothing wrong
Cant be nothing wrong
Inside of me
Daddy g
I walk in a bar, immediately sense danger
You look at me, girl, as if I was a
A total stranger
3d
Hysterical, ecstatical no matter, call me stags(? )
Its kind of hard to get a drink or
Just a girl to relax on
Phono, no go zone I go through
Aching aways just to relocate you
Kill us with your fist
So you mix it with me
I function better when I get approximately
High by my technical flyby
I function better with the sun in my eyes
I function better with the sun in my eyes
I function better with the sun in my eyes
Horace andy
Cant see nothing wrong
Cant be nothing wrong
Inside of me
Daddy g
Take a second of me you beckon Ill be
And when youre sad Ill mourn
And when youre down Im torn
Take a second of me
Said take a second of me
I stand firm for our soil
Lick a rock on foil
Reduce me, seduce me
[...] Read more
song performed by Massive Attack
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Fairytale Meaning
Oblivious to all, insensitive and dead, impervious
to every emotion, malaise and headache change
me into a grouch, practice keeps voice even and
prevents me from seeking solace in pills offering
no long-term relief, their false promise of health
only creates false expectations
Staring at TV screen, no ability to read, takeaway
with seasoning the killer, no motivation to fight for
chemical balance due to despair at overreaction
to food, nothing makes enough difference to in-
spire trying harder to overcome this counter-
productive situation
Even when improving, allergy simply surfaces
again, only helpful imagery is Christian theory
bearing a cross and wearing a crown of thorns
without these life seems ridiculous- any fairy-
tale assigning symbolic meaning to suffering
gives power to
Climb the steep, difficult mountain of life, I do
not seek elusive truth, only pragmatic value
conferring strength to tackle my life…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Triumph of Love
I
Sun-blazed, over Romsley, a livid rain-scarp.
XIII
Whose lives are hidden in God? Whose?
Who can now tell what was taken, or where,
or how, or whether it was received:
how ditched, divested, clamped, sifted, over-
laid, raked over, grassed over, spread around,
rotted down with leafmould, accepted
as civic concrete, reinforceable
base cinderblocks:
tipped into Danube, Rhine, Vistula, dredged up
with the Baltic and the Pontic sludge:
committed in absentia to solemn elevation,
Trauermusik, musique funèbre, funeral
music, for male and female
voices ringingly a cappella,
made for double string choirs, congregated brass,
choice performers on baroque trumpets hefting,
like glassblowers, inventions
of supreme order?
XIV
As to bad faith, Malebranche might argue
it rests with inattention. Stupidity
is not admissible. However, the status
of apprehension remains at issue.
Some qualities are best
left unrecognized. Needless to say,
unrecognized is not
unacknowledged. Unnamed is not nameless.
XVII
If the gospel is heard, all else follows:
the scattering, the diaspora,
the shtetlach, ash pits, pits of indigo dye.
Penitence can be spoken of, it is said,
but is itself beyond words;
even broken speech presumes. Those Christian Jews
of the first Church, huddled sabbath-survivors,
keepers of the word; silent, inside twenty years,
doubly outcast: even so I would remember—
the scattering, the diaspora.
We do not know the saints.
His mercy is greater even than his wisdom.
[...] Read more
poem by Geoffrey Hill
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Hymn 38 part 2
The universal law of equity.
Matt. 8:12
Blessed Redeemer, how divine,
How righteous is this rule of thine!
"To do to all men just the same
As we expect or wish from them."
This golden lesson, short and plain,
Gives not the mind nor mem'ry pain;
And every conscience must approve
This universal law of love.
How blest would every nation be,
Thus ruled by love and equity!
All would be friends without a foe,
And form a paradise below.
Jesus, forgive us, that we keep
Thy sacred law of love asleep;
No more let envy, wrath, and pride,
But thy blest maxims be our guide.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Stranger in Strange Crowd
STRANGER IN STRANGE CROWD
Dreams stranger’s path divide
from crowd’s uneven t[h]read
who's tissue, issues poorly understood, through dread
is left behind, swirls second rate as flotsam on life's tide,
noise windmills, senses silent, life-blood sped,
bled white, so often fearing fear, by wisdom wide,
unblessed, unsteady set sights low instead.
Despite stress, sentiments denied, imagination set aside,
stranger story stores till head heeds heart, until desires well led
fire understanding rich allied with empathy sustaining ride.
Swift Pegasus is supplied
with neither saddle, A to Zed accoutrements life tears to shreds
when vested interests, motives pure collide.
Defy temptations of soft ride
along straight road which, comfort fed,
selects ‘safe way’, too often dreads
free choice, autonomy. Self-pride
corresponds to quest for bread.
Distrust that moment Fortune’s tide
entwines in fickle thread
conformity, convention wed.
Scorn empty homage, those who glide
through vain p[l]ain life, misled.
Survival instinct, safe homestead, a ‘living wage’, priorities
appear, as opportunities to seize as each spins finite set
tripped, snipped, then ripped by Norms with ease.
Far from madding crowd who dares assign
himself true rôle in life, who thinks,
who sifts chaff, grain, drains lees from wine, palms pearls from swine?
Who, intact, acts and interacts, discerning fiction, facts,
opposes expedience, authority which hoodwinks
manipulated herd unheard, which lacks
true overview impartial, thus reacts
rather than responds, its armour: chinks.
On each new generation weigh rigid systems spawned by Fate unkind.
As pawns most men play puppet parts in Time’s relay game of tiddly-winks.
Is search for self through mirrored minds
just base reflection on sight lost?
Insisting on base ‘skills’ man finds
intuitions atrophy - cost
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Carrolling II-Parody Lewis CARROLL–The Mad Gardener’s Song
Carolling II
He Thought He Saw
He thought he saw new Internet
exchanging peer to peer,
he looked again and found it was
a mirage for each year
sees more control, “what rôle, ” he said,
“for values once held dear?
Some track to trace attack and get
convictions based on fear.'
He dreamt he saw spam disappear,
all consultations free,
he looked again and found it was
a spybot lottery.
“Is net neutrality”, he said,
“from rash risks viral clear? ”
He dreamt that Microsoft would steer
all trash deleted fast,
then woke to find world insincere
where independence past
was sacrificed throughout the year
to biometrics ghast.
He thought he saw a friend’s hello,
with an attachment piece,
he looked again and found it was
the porno scanning police.
“Politically correct”, he said,
“can’t guarantee release.”
He opened it, discovered though,
a trojan horse to fleece –
he looked again as data flow
declined, - mind not at peace -
and whispered with voice hoarse and low:
'when will our worries cease? ”
He thought he saw a hierophant,
who’d deal successful life,
he looked again and found it was
subpoena from ex-wife
demanding child support, he said,
“cards are cut by Time’s knife.”
He looked once more with rage and rant
and swore like a fishwife
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Grave Retrospective
Possessions' progression obsession
poor more, more than best less, must draw
conclusions mistaken, impression
that wealth over health sets the score
for worth on our earth where aggression's
too often condoned by the law,
where success seems a sterile succession
of trangressions that ravage rapports.
This seems tantamount to retrogression
where blunderbuss plunder makes war
where arrogant ego expression
is excuse for abuse all abhor.
Who lusts for a trophy procession
to celebrate, victory's roar,
finds vain remains reign, dispossession,
cyclic atrophy squanders life's store.
Where vice is held virtue, concession
signals weakness, destruction in store,
where thinly disguised indiscretion
pours rewards upon traitor or whore,
where equity's lacks intercession
from power base raw's bloody maw
it is hard to ignore the suppression
of freedom, true rue rotten core.
Where equity finds no reflection
in the eyes of corrupt judge explore
when and how most lost sense of direction,
surrendered control, and deplore
political moral defection,
dereliction of duty, closed door,
or puppet string rigging election,
democracy hard to restore.
Once life's flow more than permanence counted,
Nature guided intemporal tide,
no need for race, steed to be mounted,
no seed but would blossom beside
scheme stream of unconscious connections
as each was in all, all in each, -
no need for trace, gain, greed, projections,
for constrictive force frontiers of speech.
Once no part of the whole was discounted
as second-class link in life's chain,
each link was completely accounted
as interdependent to gain
from Time time to evolve, never static,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Task: Book VI. -- The Winter Walk at Noon
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;
And as the mind is pitch’d the ear is pleased
With melting airs, or martial, brisk, or grave:
Some chord in unison with what we hear
Is touch’d within us, and the heart replies.
How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear
In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept. Wherever I have heard
A kindred melody, the scene recurs,
And with it all its pleasures and its pains.
Such comprehensive views the spirit takes,
That in a few short moments I retrace
(As in a map the voyager his course)
The windings of my way through many years.
Short as in retrospect the journey seems,
It seem’d not always short; the rugged path,
And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn,
Moved many a sigh at its disheartening length.
Yet, feeling present evils, while the past
Faintly impress the mind, or not at all,
How readily we wish time spent revoked,
That we might try the ground again, where once
(Through inexperience, as we now perceive)
We miss’d that happiness we might have found!
Some friend is gone, perhaps his son’s best friend,
A father, whose authority, in show
When most severe, and mustering all its force,
Was but the graver countenance of love:
Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might lower,
And utter now and then an awful voice,
But had a blessing in its darkest frown,
Threatening at once and nourishing the plant.
We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand
That rear’d us. At a thoughtless age, allured
By every gilded folly, we renounced
His sheltering side, and wilfully forewent
That converse, which we now in vain regret.
How gladly would the man recall to life
The boy’s neglected sire! a mother too,
That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still,
Might he demand them at the gates of death.
Sorrow has, since they went, subdued and tamed
The playful humour; he could now endure
(Himself grown sober in the vale of tears)
And feel a parent’s presence no restraint.
But not to understand a treasure’s worth
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
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