So that ideas of sort of relaxed symmetry have been something for years that I have been concerned with because I think that symmetry is a neutral shape as opposed to a form of design.
quote by Robert Rauschenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Symmetry
There was so much symmetry
In the cemetary it just made you want to stay
As if planted in cement
the similitude was not in headstones
though order ruled there too
No it was the solitude...the silence
As if humans were really made for this
No crush of useless voices
No sniping...or complaints
No crying or ornate crooning
or baying at the moon
Just that blessed stillness
Mocking seminary thoughts
Maybe all this cemetery symmetry is heaven after all
poem by Boink Boink
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dedicated to Hesse's Goldmund
The old master sat,
withering like winter’s flowers
as he shrank -
from encroaching onslaught of creeping death.
He had watched many shapes and faces, so held
shimmering vision on virile edge of his mind.
Afterwards thoughts never ceased to plague
in every shape, a certain form repetition of line.
I think matters not what one thought or speaks.
but what we shape with willing hands before time.
So from fetal dream began careful drawing
with loving fingers, clearer its shape defined.
To picture wondrous root of image making; grief transmuted -
seeking to formulate thoughts; the sharper to bind.
Envisaged image was a perfect whole
without flaw, symmetry
sprung from life, from sacrosanct depths,
he held it within his mind.
Then cast it forth like a radiant jewel
many faceted,
even in darkness,
in faintest light it will shine.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tiger (revised)
Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright,
In the forests of the night.
What immortal mind or eye
Could frame thy foolish symmetry?
From what distant keeps and skies
Have a watched with my spies?
Oh, with whom would I conspire
If I could quench thy brilliant fire?
What the methods, what the pain
Would I endure to forge thy chain?
What demons would I willingly clasp,
If I could have thee in my grasp?
I have watched thee many a year.
Would I could to teach thee fear!
Then you would finally see
Thyself as weak as you seem to me.
Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright,
In the forests of the night.
This immortal hand and eye
Would dare to mar thy symmetry.
poem by Lena Hairston
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Margaret Love Peacock
Long night succeeds thy little day;
Oh blighted blossom! can it be,
That this grey stone, and grassy clay,
Have clos'd our anxious care of thee?
The half-form'd speech of artless thought
That spoke a mind beyond thy years;
The song, the dance, by nature taught;
The sunny smiles, the transient tears;
The symmetry of face and form,
The eye with light and life replete;
The little heart so fondly warm,
The voice so musically sweet;
These, lost to hope, in memory yet
Around the hearts that lov'd thee cling,
Shadowing, with long and vain regret,
The too fair promise of thy spring.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Practical Wisdom
Here to go where or whereever to go
You will find a lack of practical wisdom
And the people have some liking
For the devlish musicality of freedom
Freedom that is eating its own prey
Freedom that rusts like an ores of iron
This interior monologue this symmetry should be enchained
LIfe is but a shape of crashing system
They have named the days for Ma and Pa
Just to set themselves free from the shakeles of their wisdom
Are the days finding justice via peculiar arrogance
Are they went-off like a bud of flower's bloom
That we should ask to vouchsafe generation
So the bevy of girls may rest with a balm in their womb
They could inculcate the wisdom of all wisdoms
And the grandeur of multiple form
poem by Hafiz Qasim
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Design is the method of putting form and content together. Design, just as art, has multiple definitions; there is no single definition. Design can be art. Design can be aesthetics. Design is so simple, that's why it is so complicated.
Palindromic Flight
747
oh
bilateral symmetry
elegant fuselage
lo
the wings
and
the tail
in a palindromic flight
poetry
crosses
the sky
behold
behold
the sky
crosses
poetry
in a palindromic flight
the tail
and
the wings
lo
elegant fuselage
bilateral symmetry
oh
747
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eternal Mind Mystic
I am exterior student
sunk
beneath exploited
excess
of inspired words
floundering
upon raw boned
critical analysis
dusty
dried dated
second-hand imagery.
I am interior poet
intoxicated
bubbling
heightened insight
ascending
drunk
upon dimensional planes
spun web symmetry
benediction enveloping
blessed mortal human
purification dedication misery.
The dualism of literary
dissection vivisection
as opposed to poetical
verse mystic elevation.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In This World
to finally gain pulse reentry
into world wide poetry
to read anew familiar names
all radiant poetic friends
friends perceiving beauty
friends diverse embrace many
nations races ethic creeds
genders faiths embrace symmetry
range insight simple sincere
to fantastic visualization
entwine in one world breath
deep aroma appreciation
home at last
united nations
in peace fast
enjoy celebrations
friends perceiving beauty
friends diverse so many
nations races ethic creeds
genders faiths in symmetry
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The universe is built on a plan the profound symmetry of which is somehow present in the inner structure of our intellect.
quote by Paul Valery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Architecture depends on Order, Arrangement, Eurythmy, Symmetry, Propriety, and Economy.
Vitruvius in De architectura
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Renda Writer - Balance
I balanced on a horse named symmetry
But I didn't know
That he was epileptic
And so goes
The start of an epic
poem by Renda Writer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I mean your borrowers of books - those mutilators of collections, spoilers of the symmetry of shelves, and creators of odd volumes.
quote by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Onion
My love is an onion naked and white
Peeled back from itself
Into it's selves
It conceals many lives
My love is the layer upon layer
The years in which we grew
Slowly and in perfect symmetry
Up from that first shoot
Anchored in the earth of first passion
sculpted in time into one clear white orb
Invincible
immeasurable
The depth and breadth of you and I
Knitted in silkness of flesh and form
And at that first touch
The first severing of ties
A parting sorrow
brings a rivulet of tears to thy celestial eye
Twixt pain and joy,
True love is born!
yvette smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you look at music, you see theme, variation, you see symmetry, asymmetry, you see structure, and these are related to skills in the real world.
quote by Dave Van Ronk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't know if it's a sign of all the chaos that is happening out there or not, but I've lately craved the structure and order of classical music, the balance and symmetry.
quote by Helen Reddy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tiger
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And What shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
poem by William Blake
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The Choir And Music Of Solitude And Silence
Silence is a great blue bell
Swinging and ringing, tinkling and singing,
In measure’s pleasure, and in the supple symmetry
of the soaring of the immense intense wings
glinting against
All the blue radiance above us and within us, hidden
Save for the stars sparking, distant and unheard in their
singing.
And this is the first meaning of the famous saying,
The stars sang. They are the white birds of silence
And the meaning of the difficult famous saying that the
sons and daughters of morning sang,
Meant and means that they were and they are the children
of God and morning,
Delighting in the lights of becoming and the houses of
being,
Taking pleasure in measure and excess, in listening as in
seeing.
Love is the most difficult and dangerous form of courage.
Courage is the most desperate, admirable and noble kind of
love.
So that when the great blue bell of silence is stilled and
stopped or broken
By the babel and chaos of desire unrequited, irritated and
frustrated,
When the heart has opened and when the heart has spoken
Not of the purity and symmetry of gratification, but action
of insatiable distraction’s dissatisfaction,
Then the heart says, in all its blindness and faltering
emptiness:
There is no God. Because I am hope. And hope must be
fed.
And then the great blue bell of silence is deafened, dumbed,
and has become the tomb of the living dead.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tyger
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Tiger by William Blake
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?