Square Zitate

Yes it was 1949. How I came to that. That's like how one gets to know a human being. It so happens that I've always had a preference – as everyone has prejudices and preferences – for the square as a shape in preference to the circle as a shape. And I have known for a long time that a circle always fools me by not telling me whether it's standing still or not. And if a circle circulates you

don't see it. The outer curve looks the same whether it moves or does not move. So the square is much more honest and tells me that it is sitting on one line of the four, usually a horizontal one, as a basis. And I have also come to the conclusion that the square is a human invention, which makes it sympathetic to me. Because you don't see it in nature. As we do not see squares in nature, I

thought that it is man-made. But I have corrected myself. Because squares exist in salt crystals, our daily salt. We know this because we can see it in the microscope. On the other hand, we believe we see circles in nature. But rarely precise ones. Mature, it seems, is not a mathematician. Probably there are no straight lines either. Particularly not since Einstein says in his theory of relativity

that there is no straight line, rod knows whether there are or not, I don't. I still like to believe that the square is a human invention. And that tickles me. So when I have a preference for it then I can only say excuse me.

Welcoming Hegel’s idea of reconciliation as akin to his own enterprise of public reason, Rawls drew the line at his vision of the international realm as a domain of violence and anarchy, in which contention between sovereign states was bound to be regulated by war. Habermas’s gesture enlisted Hegel, on the contrary, as a patron of cosmopolitan peace. The first could not square his Law of

Peoples with the lawlessness of Hegel’s states, the second could only enrol Hegel for pacific progress by turning him philosophically inside out. Bobbio, by contrast, could take the measure of Hegel’s conception of world history, as a ruthless march of great powers in which successive might founds overarching right, and invoke it in all logic to justify his approval of American imperial

violence. Law was born of force, and the maxim of the conqueror – prior in tempore, potior in jure

Well sure, my sculptures are floor pieces. Each one, like any area on the surface of the earth, supports a column of air that weighs – what is it? – 14.7 pounds per square inch. So in a sense, that might represent a column. It's not an idea, it's a sense of something you know, a demarked place. Somehow I think I always thought of it going that way, rather than an idea of a narrowing triangle

going to the center of the earth… I have nothing to do with Conceptual art [in contrast to his Physical Art, as Carl Andre called his sculpture art already in 1969]]. I'm not interested in ideas. If I were interested in ideas, I'd be in a field where what we think in is ideas… I don't really know what an idea is. One thing for me is that if I can frame something in language, I would never make

art out of it. I make art out of things which cannot be framed in any other way. [quote from a talk with the audience, December 1969]

Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen years,
The King commanded that there should be built
Three stately houses, one of hewn square beams
With cedar lining, warm for winter days;
One of veined marbles, cool for summer heat;
And one of burned bricks, with blue tiles bedecked,
Pleasant at seed-time, when the champaks bud--
Subha, Suramma, Ramma, were their names.
Delicious

gardens round about them bloomed,
Streams wandered wild and musky thickets stretched,
With many a bright pavilion and fair lawn
In midst of which Siddartha strayed at will,
Some new delight provided every hour;
And happy hours he knew, for life was rich,
With youthful blood at quickest; yet still came
The shadows of his meditation back,
As the lake's silver dulls with

driving clouds.

Bernett: "Was ist hier eigentlich los? Wilde Verfolgungsjagd, ein Polizist schwer verletzt, zwei Männer tot, ein Zeuge fast ermordet. Ich will jetzt sofort wissen, was hier los ist, ohne Ausflüchte!"
Bullitt: "Hier ist der Bericht."
Baker: "Ein Mann wie Chalmers kann unserer Abteilung sehr nützlich sein. Er kann für uns sprechen, zum Beispiel, bei den entscheidenden

Regierungsstellen. Also, Sie müssen ihm seinen Zeugen unbedingt ausliefern. Wo ist Ross?"
Bernett: "Sagen Sie es ihm. Ich verlange es!"
Bullitt: "Er ist tot."
Bernett: "Tot?"
Bullitt: "Ja. Er ist gestern Nacht gestorben."
Bernett: "Nach dem Abtransport?"
Bullitt: "Nein vorher. Ich hab' ihn unter falschen Namen rausgebracht."
Baker: "Sie sind wohl

nicht ganz bei Trost! Einfach einen toten Mann aus dem Krankenhaus zu schmuggeln! Und jetzt wurden zwei Männer getötet, die vielleicht garnichts damit zu tun haben."
Bullitt: "Die beiden Männer, hinter denen ich her war, haben Ross getötet."
Bernett: "Sind Sie ganz sicher?"
Bullitt: "Ja. Der eine hat auf mich geschossen. Mit einer Winchester."
Baker: "Laut

Funkmeldung sind die beiden bis zur Unkenntlichkeit verbrannt. Alles, was er bis jetzt hat, sind zwei tote Männer. Das würde vor Gericht niemals genügen."
Bullitt: "Eine Spur existiert noch, der ich nachgehen möchte."
Bernett (liest vom Zettel ab, den er von Bullitt bekommen hat): "Miss Dorothea Simmons, Thunderbold Hotel, San Mateo."
Delgetti: "Ross hatte sie von einer

Telefonzelle am Union Square angerufen, etwa neun Stunden, bevor er niedergeschossen wurde."
Baker: "Na und! Wahrscheinlich hat er mit seiner Freundin telefoniert."
Bernett: "Heute ist Sonntag. Ich werde diesen Vorführbefehl noch bis morgen früh zurückhalten."
Bernett zu Bullitt, nachdem Baker den Raum verlassen hat: "Frank! Na los, man, hauen Sie ab."