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One cannot really argue with a mathematical theorem.

quote by Stephen Hawking
Added by Lucian Velea
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Voyage around the Square Root of Minus One

I often heard
that while the sciences concern themselves
with objective truths
the arts deal with subjective phenomena.

Many years ago I held the same view,
but later came to the conclusion
that this is just a well-combed popular myth.

It is an untenable credo
because the sharp separation
of the arts and sciences is a rigid
and arbitrary mandate, full of holes.

Although all subjects have their specificities,
at the same time they also share
many common traits with each other.

There is art in science and science in art.

Artists, for example,
apply geometry to represent
a three dimensional scene in a painting,
which is a two dimensional surface.

By using ‘objective' geometrical perspective,
Renaissance artists, among them Alberti,
Brunelleschi, Uccello, Leonardo and Dürer,
developed in Europe the ‘subjective' illusion
of perceptual realism.

Later, in the Dutch Republic of the 17th century,
Johannes Vermeer applied expensive pigments
to the canvas and conducted
pioneering research in optics that enhanced
the supreme quality of his work,
imbuing his paintings with sublime,
otherworldly light.

In the 19th century
the Romantic painter John Constable
prepared detailed studies
of the landscape and weather conditions
of England, before transcribing them
into images of stunning accuracy and grace.

Following the closing of the Weimar Bauhaus
by the Nazis in 1933, the artist Josef Albers
moved to the USA, where he worked at
Black Mountain College and at Yale University.

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Hartal
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Don't

Don't!
Don't... don't you wish we tried?
Do you feel what I feel inside?
You know our love is stronger than pride... oh
No don't... don't let your anger grow
Just tell me what you need me to know
Please talk to me, don't close the door
Hmmm, 'cause I wanna hear you
I wanna be near you
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away
Don't tell me to go
Don't!... Don't give up on trust
Don't give up on me, on us
If we could just hold on long enough
Hmmm, we can do it
we'll get through it
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Just give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away, don't tell me to go
Don't pretend that it's okay
Things won't get better that way
Don't do something you might regret someday...
Don't!
[dobro solo, instrumental]
Don't give up on me
Hmm, Don't!
(We can do it) We'll get through it
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Just give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away, don't tell me to go
Don't! (Don't fight dont argue)
Don't give up on me
(Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry)
Say that that I'm sorry
(Just let me love you)
Don't give up on me
(Don't turn me away)
Don't tell me to go
Don't!
(Don't fight don't argue)
Don't give up on me
(Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry)

[...] Read more

song performed by Shania Twain
Added by Lucian Velea
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tortoise Shell

The Cross, the Cross
Goes deeper in than we know,
Deeper into life;
Right into the marrow
And through the bone.
Along the back of the baby tortoise
The scales are locked in an arch like a bridge,
Scale-lapping, like a lobster's sections
Or a bee's.

Then crossways down his sides
Tiger-stripes and wasp-bands.

Five, and five again, and five again,
And round the edges twenty-five little ones,
The sections of the baby tortoise shell.

Four, and a keystone;
Four, and a keystone;
Four, and a keystone;
Then twenty-four, and a tiny little keystone.

It needed Pythagoras to see life playing with counters on the living back
Of the baby tortoise;
Life establishing the first eternal mathematical tablet,
Not in stone, like the Judean Lord, or bronze, but in life-clouded, life-rosy tortoise shell.

The first little mathematical gentleman
Stepping, wee mite, in his loose trousers
Under all the eternal dome of mathematical law.

Fives, and tens,
Threes and fours and twelves,
All the volte face of decimals,
The whirligig of dozens and the pinnacle of seven.

Turn him on his back,
The kicking little beetle,
And there again, on his shell-tender, earth-touching belly,
The long cleavage of division, upright of the eternal cross
And on either side count five,
On each side, two above, on each side, two below
The dark bar horizontal.

The Cross!
It goes right through him, the sprottling insect,
Through his cross-wise cloven psyche,
Through his five-fold complex-nature.

So turn him over on his toes again;

[...] Read more

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Pythagoras Theorem

The Pythagoras' Theorem
by godfrey morris

Pythagoras! Pythagoras!
Where is thy Theorem?
Pythagoras! Pythagoras!
What is your law?

Hypotenuse side squared
Equals the sum
Of the other two
Side Squared
In a right-angled Triangle
The truth is right there

Pythagoras! Pythagoras!
How did you know?
The Pyramids of Eygpt
Is there you now go

poem by Godfrey Morris
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Best Years Of Out Lives

Where were going
Heaven knows
{were} lost and falling
And it shows
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
Sent to hurt me
And you will
Tear the seasons
From the hill
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives

song performed by Omd
Added by Lucian Velea
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No matter how correct a mathematical theorem may appear to be, one ought never to be satisfied that there was not something imperfect about it until it also gives the impression of being beautiful.

quote by George Boole
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The analysis of variance is not a mathematical theorem, but rather a convenient method of arranging the arithmetic.

quote by Ronald Fisher
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The Modern Major-General

I am the very pattern of a modern Major-Gineral,
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral;
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical,
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical;
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With interesting facts about the square of the hypotenuse,
I'm very good at integral and differential calculus,
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous.
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral.

I know our mythic history - KING ARTHUR'S and SIR CARADOC'S,
I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox;
I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of HELIOGABALUS,
In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous.
I tell undoubted RAPHAELS from GERARD DOWS and ZOFFANIES,
I know the croaking chorus from the "Frogs" of ARISTOPHANES;
Then I can hum a fugue, of which I've heard the music's din afore,
And whistle all the airs from that confounded nonsense "Pinafore."
Then I can write a washing-bill in Babylonic cuneiform,
And tell you every detail of CARACTACUS'S uniform.
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral.

In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and "ravelin,"
When I can tell at sight a Chassepot rifle from a javelin,
When such affairs as SORTIES and surprises I'm more wary at,
And when I know precisely what is meant by Commissariat,
When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery,
When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery,
In short, when I've a smattering of elementary strategy,
You'll say a better Major-GenerAL has never SAT a gee -
For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury,
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century.
But still in learning vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral!

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Great Sex In A Bower Of Razorwire

Great sex in a bower of razorwire
and every kiss the splash
of an electrical rose
that just fell into the jacuzzi
as if it were committing suicide.
I remember you like the proof
of some mathematical theorem
I learned in school.
You were certain proof
I was a fool.
Foolproof then you said
but by then I was so screwed up
feeling like the Antichrist of Zen
I just wanted to be
as simple and lucid
as a horned skull that had fallen
like a chunk of the moon
into an unnamed desert
and let the stars crawl in and out of my eyes
salvaging whatever insights they could.
But you were the dangerous neighbourhood
I fell into instead
like a lost traveller's cheque
like a mini blackhole in my brain
like a pebble into a wishing well
that taught me like a dead echo
you can't draw water from a snakepit
even when you lower
the silver bucket of the moon
like your heart into a troubled sea.
I tried to write your mystery in comets
over the old cave paintings
of the constellations
that stuttered across the sky
like the text of an ancient windstorm
you couldn't get out of your eye,
but you mistook them
for the writing on the wall
and the fear you nursed
like your own assassin
broke them like a code of candles
in the shattered mirror of your seeing.
Everything I wrote after that
was either a lighthouse or a searchlight
looking for you among the wrecks.
I remember stepping out of the men's once
and seeing you across the bar
when you didn't know I was looking.
You were that nudged-over, foam-nosed
beer-drinker huddled in the corner

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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The sciences do not try to explain, they hardly even try to interpret, they mainly make models. By a model is meant a mathematical construct which, with the addition of certain verbal interpretations, describes observed phenomena. The justification of such a mathematical construct is solely and precisely that it is expected to work.

quote by John Von Neumann
Added by Lucian Velea
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The sciences do not try to explain, they hardly even try to interpret, they mainly make models. By a model is meant a mathematical construct which, with the addition of certain verbal interpretations, describes observed phenomena. The justification of such a mathematical construct is solely and precisely that it is expected to work.

quote by Johann Von Neumann
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Every attempt to employ mathematical methods in the study of chemical questions must be considered profoundly irrational and contrary to the spirit of chemistry... If mathematical analysis should ever had prominent place in chemistry - an aberration, which is happily almost impossible - it would be a rapid and widespread degeneration of that science.

Auguste Comte in Philosophie Positive (1832)
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Mathematical calculation

Mathematical calculation failed
Life succeeded with full swim
With formula of love and affection
It is correct mathematical calculation.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The principal aim of mathematical education is to develop certain faculties of the mind, and among these intuition is not the least precious. It is through it that the mathematical world remains in touch with the real world, and even if pure mathematics could do without it, we should still have to have recourse to it to fill up the gulf that separates the symbol from reality.

quote by Henri Poincare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Face My Nemesis

Amid the office noise I am learning @
is called ‘arobase' - a quarter to three is
trois heures moins le quart, three minus a
quarter - enough to shut my brain down,
numbers have a deadly impact on me

Stop all synapses firing at once, I turn
into a dunce, stare vacantly at pages
of information I can't understand, why
should life be thus, as a mathematical
genius I could have been rich

In a universe that can be described in a
world famous mathematical equation
where E is energy, m mass, c the
speed of light, whatever it means -
everything is relative

And I must face my nemesis, numbers
expressed in French in a minefield of
arobases while telling time, I'm sinking
into the depths of my black hole brain,
information goes in - but never

Comes out again…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Time's Arrow Arrested

Dusky shadows hide under the leafy boughs of the lanky trees.
Beyond the dark sky the sun carries the bright promise of
a lustrous morning. But it is merely a promise. For, the experience
of the past is not evidence of future events.

And how perturbing can be the obvious. This ever present and
precisely dissected substance that we break to exact hours,
minutes and seconds, and call it time. How mind-boggling is
this historian’s palette, Newton’s infinite attribute, Einstein’s finite
fourth dimension.

Astronomers say that a colossal firecracker called the Big Bang
exploded about fifteen billion years ago, marking the beginning
of time and the universe. Yet this sophisticated modern myth
does not really solve the enigma of time or the mystery of existence.
After all, why does the world exist, rather than not?

Newton viewed time as a mathematical duration, an absolute
temporal dimension in which time flows steadily without relation
to space, matter or human affairs. Many years later, Einstein
dropped the notion of absolute space and time. In the Theory
of Relativity he demonstrated that time slows down as velocity
increases. Clocks can run at different speeds.

Time became the fourth dimension. However, in the tiny world
of the atoms, quantum physicists discover a bizarre universe of
eleven dimensions. In Superstring theories higher dimensions are
curled up within the deep structure of space-time. Moreover,
the number of higher cosmic dimensions is not limited, because
scientists might invent as many dimensions as it takes for their
theories to work. Unfortunately, in relation to nature mathematical
propositions are uncertain.

Physicists nowadays conceive time as an asymmetrical arrow,
flying in one direction, from the past to the future, through
the present. They devise ingenious schemes to ride on the arrow
of time into the future; or to reverse its direction of flight and travel
back to the past.

I believe that time is an illusion. It does not really exists. The hands
of the clock does not really show us time but movement in space,
an artificial human invention of hours, minutes and seconds. And
what we measure with our objective instruments is not identical
with the subjective psychological experience of duration. External
time and internal time are not the same.

Now, if time really flows like a river without banks,
if it is indeed in a state of flux, then what is its speed? And since
we measure speed by the ratio of traveling distance to the periodic
motion of the clock, how are we supposed to measure the

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Hartal
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RESEARCH ON RECURSIVE FUNCTIONS, LOGIC AND THEORY OF DEMONSTRATION - In 1927, the Romanian mathematician Gabriel Sudan (1899-1977), with his doctorate at David Hilbert, gave the first example of a recursive function that is not primitive recursive, before Wilhelm Ackermann ( 1928). Between 1934-1942, at the University of Iași, the mathematician Grigore C. Moisil (1906-1973) dealt with "Logic and the theory of demonstration" and aiming to "learn mathematics from the beginning", he studied at the "wonderful library" of the Mathematical Seminar in Iași, the book by Hilbert and Ackermann, but also the 3 volumes “Principia Mathematica” by Russel and Whitehead. Professor Moisil learned about Lukasiewicz's multi-valued logics in the spring of 1935, when T. Kotarbinski, a professor at the University of Warsaw, gave 3 public lectures and a short lecture at the Mathematical Seminar on Lukasiewicz's writing without parentheses. .

Marin Vlada in ROINFO Romanian Informatics 2018-2022
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No Need To Argue

Theres no need to aruge anymore
I gave all I could
But it left me so sore
And the thing that makes me mad
Is the one thing that I had
I knew, I knew, Id lose you
Youll always be special to me
And I remember all the
Things we once shared
Watching tv movies on
The living room armchair
But they say it will work out fine
Was it all a waste of time
Cause I knew, I knew, Id lose you
Youll always be special to me
Will I forget in time
You said I was on your mind
Theres no need to argue
No need to argue anymore
Theres no need to argue anymore
Special

song performed by Cranberries
Added by Lucian Velea
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In the spirit of Rumi 44 -Between, lies beyond

Some men argue all their life
against predestination
Some men argue all their life
against free will

You argue with yourself all your life
about predestination and about free will
Wise men say that God is to be found
where opposites meet and are resolved

Between predestination and free will
is to be found belief.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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