A Sentimental Journey

A Sentimental Journey

Monthly Archives: May 2010

Algebra of love

15 Saturday May 2010

Posted by Alexandre Borovik in Uncategorized

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Cependant, je relisais sa lettre et j’étais tout de même déçu du peu qu’il y a d’une personne dans une lettre. Sans doute les caractères tracés expriment notre pensée, ce que font aussi nos traits : c’est toujours en présence d’une pensée que nous nous trouvons. Mais tout de même, dans la personne, la pensée ne nous apparaît qu’après s’être diffusée dans cette corolle du visage épanouie comme un nymphéa. Cela la modifie tout de même beaucoup. Et c’est peut-être une des causes de nos perpétuelles déceptions en amour que ces perpétuelles déviations qui font qu’à l’attente de l’être idéal que nous aimons, chaque rendez-vous nous apporte, en réponse, une personne de chair qui tient déjà si peu de notre rêve. Et puis quand nous réclamons quelque chose de cette personne nous recevons d’elle une lettre où même de la personne il reste très peu, comme, dans les lettres de l’algèbre, il ne re! ste plus la détermination des chiffres de l’arithmétique, lesquels déjà ne contiennent plus les qualités des fruits ou des fleurs additionnés. [Marcel Proust, A la Recherche du Temps Perdu: Albertine Disparue]

[Meanwhile, I read her letter again, and was nevertheless disappointed when I saw how little there is of a person in a letter. Doubtless the characters traced on the paper express our thoughts, as do also our features: it is still a thought of some kind that we see before us. But all the same, in the person, the thought is not apparent to us until it has been diffused through the expanded water-lily of her face. This modifies it considerably. And it is perhaps one of the causes of our perpetual disappointments in love, this perpetual deviation which brings it about that, in response to our expectation of the ideal person with whom we are in love, each meeting provides us with a person in flesh and blood in whom there is already so little trace of our dream. And then when we demand something of this person, we receive from her a letter in which even of the person very little remains, as in the letters of an algebraical formula there no longer remains the precise value of the arithmetical ciphers, which themselves do not contain the qualities of the fruit or flowers that they enumerate. [Marcel Proust, The Sweet Cheat Gone]]

[via Olivier Gerard]

A painting with a whiff of mathematics

15 Saturday May 2010

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Gespenstische Gestalt, Jeffrey Steele, 1963

Source:  Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool.

3.1415926…

09 Sunday May 2010

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Poe, E.
Near a Raven

Midnights so dreary, tired and weary.
Silently pondering volumes extolling all by-now obsolete lore.
During my rather long nap – the weirdest tap!
An ominous vibrating sound disturbing my chamber’s antedoor.
“This”, I whispered quietly, “I ignore”.

Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the ghostly fires, a glittering ember.
Inflamed by lightning’s outbursts, windows cast penumbras upon this floor.
Sorrowful, as one mistreated, unhappy thoughts I heeded:
That inimitable lesson in elegance – Lenore –
Is delighting, exciting…nevermore.

Ominously, curtains parted (my serenity outsmarted),
And fear overcame my being – the fear of “forevermore”.
Fearful foreboding abided, selfish sentiment confided,
As I said, “Methinks mysterious traveler knocks afore.
A man is visiting, of age threescore.”

Taking little time, briskly addressing something: “Sir,” (robustly)
“Tell what source originates clamorous noise afore?
Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly?
Why, devil incarnate!–” Here completely unveiled I my antedoor–
Just darkness, I ascertained – nothing more.

While surrounded by darkness then, I persevered to clearly comprehend.
I perceived the weirdest dream…of everlasting “nevermores”.
Quite, quite, quick nocturnal doubts fled – such relief! – as my intellect said,
(Desiring, imagining still) that perchance the apparition was uttering a whispered “Lenore”.
This only, as evermore.

Silently, I reinforced, remaining anxious, quite scared, afraid,
While intrusive tap did then come thrice – O, so stronger than sounded afore.
“Surely” (said silently) “it was the banging, clanging window lattice.”
Glancing out, I quaked, upset by horrors hereinbefore,
Perceiving: a “nevermore”.

Completely disturbed, I said, “Utter, please, what prevails ahead.
Repose, relief, cessation, or but more dreary ‘nevermores’?”
The bird intruded thence – O, irritation ever since! –
Then sat on Pallas’ pallid bust, watching me (I sat not, therefore),
And stated “nevermores”.

Bemused by raven’s dissonance, my soul exclaimed, “I seek intelligence;
Explain thy purpose, or soon cease intoning forlorn ‘nevermores’!”
“Nevermores”, winged corvus proclaimed – thusly was a raven named?
Actually maintain a surname, upon Pluvious seashore?
I heard an oppressive “nevermore”.

My sentiments extremely pained, to perceive an utterance so plain,
Most interested, mystified, a meaning I hoped for.
“Surely,” said the raven’s watcher, “separate discourse is wiser.
Therefore, liberation I’ll obtain, retreating heretofore –
Eliminating all the ‘nevermores’ “.

Still, the detestable raven just remained, unmoving, on sculptured bust.
Always saying “never” (by a red chamber’s door).
A poor, tender heartache maven – a sorrowful bird – a raven!
O, I wished thoroughly, forthwith, that he’d fly heretofore.
Still sitting, he recited “nevermores”.

The raven’s dirge induced alarm – “nevermore” quite wearisome.
I meditated: “Might its utterances summarize of a calamity before?”
O, a sadness was manifest – a sorrowful cry of unrest;
“O,” I thought sincerely, “it’s a melancholy great – furthermore,
Removing doubt, this explains ‘nevermores’ “.

Seizing just that moment to sit – closely, carefully, advancing beside it,
Sinking down, intrigued, where velvet cushion lay afore.
A creature, midnight-black, watched there – it studied my soul, unawares.
Wherefore, explanations my insight entreated for.
Silently, I pondered the “nevermores”.

“Disentangle, nefarious bird! Disengage – I am disturbed!”
Intently its eye burned, raising the cry within my core.
“That delectable Lenore – whose velvet pillow this was, heretofore,
Departed thence, unsettling my consciousness therefore.
She’s returning – that maiden – aye, nevermore.”

Since, to me, that thought was madness, I renounced continuing sadness.
Continuing on, I soundly, adamantly forswore:
“Wretch,” (addressing blackbird only) “fly swiftly – emancipate me!”
“Respite, respite, detestable raven – and discharge me, I implore!”
A ghostly answer of: “nevermore”.

” ‘Tis a prophet? Wraith? Strange devil? Or the ultimate evil?”
“Answer, tempter-sent creature!”, I inquired, like before.
“Forlorn, though firmly undaunted, with ‘nevermores’ quite indoctrinated,
Is everything depressing, generating great sorrow evermore?
I am subdued!”, I then swore.

In answer, the raven turned – relentless distress it spurned.
“Comfort, surcease, quiet, silence!” – pleaded I for.
“Will my (abusive raven!) sorrows persist unabated?
Nevermore Lenore respondeth?”, adamantly I encored.
The appeal was ignored.

“O, satanic inferno’s denizen — go!”, I said boldly, standing then.
“Take henceforth loathsome “nevermores” – O, to an ugly Plutonian shore!
Let nary one expression, O bird, remain still here, replacing mirth.
Promptly leave and retreat!”, I resolutely swore.
Blackbird’s riposte: “nevermore”.

So he sitteth, observing always, perching ominously on these doorways.
Squatting on the stony bust so untroubled, O therefore.
Suffering stark raven’s conversings, so I am condemned, subserving,
To a nightmare cursed, containing miseries galore.
Thus henceforth, I’ll rise (from a darkness, a grave) — nevermore!

Source: Mike Keith

Russian blues

04 Tuesday May 2010

Posted by Alexandre Borovik in Uncategorized

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Jonathan Winawer, Nathan Witthoft, Michael C. Frank, Lisa Wu, Alex R. Wade, and Lera Boroditsky, Russian blues reveal effects of language on color discrimination. Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci.   104  no. 19 (May 8, 2007), 7780–7785.
http://www.pnas.org/cgi/doi/10.1073/pnas.0701644104
Abstract:
English and Russian color terms divide the color spectrum differently. Unlike English, Russian makes an obligatory distinction between lighter blues (‘‘goluboy’’) and darker blues (‘‘siniy’’). We investigated whether this linguistic difference leads to differences in color discrimination. We tested English and Russian speakers in a speeded color discrimination task using blue stimuli that spanned the siniy / goluboy border. We found that Russian speakers were faster to discriminate two colors when they fell into different linguistic categories in Russian (one siniy and the other goluboy) than when they were from the same linguistic category (both siniy or both goluboy). Moreover, this category advantage was eliminated by a verbal, but not a spatial, dual task. These effects were stronger for difficult discriminations (i.e., when the colors were perceptually close) than for easy discriminations (i.e., when the colors were further apart). English speakers tested on the identical stimuli did not show a category advantage in any of the conditions. These results demonstrate that (i) categories in language affect performance on simple perceptual color tasks and (ii) the effect of language is online (and can be disrupted by verbal interference).

And now a question that tortured me from my childhood: Is there discrimination between синий and голубой in Georgian language? The reason for my question is obvious: a wonderful poem by Nikoloz Baratashvili in Boris Pasternak’s translation:

Цвет небесный, синий цвет,
Полюбил я с малых лет.
В детстве он мне означал
Синеву иных начал.

И теперь, когда достиг
Я вершины дней своих,
В жертву остальным цветам
Голубого не отдам.

Он прекрасен без прикрас.
Это цвет любимых глаз.
Это взгляд бездонный твой,
Напоенный синевой.

Это цвет моей мечты.
Это краска высоты.
В этот голубой раствор
Погружен земной простор.

Это легкий переход
В неизвестность от забот
И от плачущих родных
На похоронах моих.

Это синий негустой
Иней над моей плитой.
Это сизый зимний дым
Мглы над именем моим.

1841

About me

This is an overflow blog for more trivial or personal posts not suitable for my principal blogs, Mathematics under the Microscope and A Dialogue on Infinity.

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