At the end of the day, the internet is a fair space. A medium of infinite resource. And something we've never had before, ever. But people aren't connecting the dots, and that's what scares me.
I couldn't write a song to save my life. I wouldn't say that I started to panic, but I was definitely getting frustrated. I couldn't even cross a t or dot an i.
The brain "fills in" the missing information from the blind spot. Notice what you see in the location of the dot when it's in your blind spot. When the dot disappears, you do not perceive a hole of whiteness or blackness in its place; instead your brain invents a patch of the background pattern. Your brain, with no information from that particular spot in visual space, fills in with the patterns around it. You're not perceiving what's out there. You're perceiving whatever your brain tells you.
Then I saw a small dark dot enter the lower left corner of the vision. It floated up a ways and then suddenly disappeared. The Lord authoritatively announced, "That dot represents all the evil of all beings and of all history combined. It's temporary and fleeting compared to Who I Am. So what are you going to magnify?"
Life is simply a connect-the dots game, and all the dots have already been identified and organized by somebody else. All you have to do is follow the blueprint, use the system, or work the program that they provide.
Normal people, who grow up with compassion, never amount to anything. They're the ones who end up gluing those little dots on the highway. Or, putting glue on the dots for the guy who glues dots on the highway. Screwed up people, who weren't coddled or raised with compassion, we get stuff done. Sure, we feel a little alone and abandoned, but, we're... very... happy. Why can't you love me, daddy?
There really is no such thing as race. We all came from Africa. We are all of the same stardust. We are all going to live and die on the same planet, a Pale Blue Dot in the vastness of space. We have to work together.
In the early days of the Internet, the word "navigation" had this ingrained in it. There really was a sensation of the cyber-flâneur, as you really would have no idea where you would end up. You would end up on pages that had nothing to do with what you wanted, experiences that were totally unanticipated. You had to connect the dots, connect the parcels of your experience. It was totally open to randomness.
Let man then contemplate nature in full and lofty majesty, and turn his eyes away from the mean objects which surround him. Let him look at the dazzling light hung aloft as an eternal lamp to lighten the universe; let him behold the earth, a mere dot compared with the vast circuit which that orb describes, and stand amazed to find that the vast circuit itself is but a very fine point compared with the orbit traced by the starts as they roll their course on high.
It has been difficult for [young people in the U.S.] to connect the dots between rising tuition costs and other assaults on their dignity with the ongoing assault on public life and its myriad democratic institutions. Today's generation faces an enormous battle in turning back the current assaults on the social state, higher education, and the social good.
If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backward 10 years later.
We connect the dots in the drawing with our mind. We give them a meaning, a figurative sense, which is self-reflexive in that it creates us, because we are the experiencer of the moment.
Almost every dot-com idea from 1999 that failed will succeed.
I think for new artists the hardest thing is putting the face with a name. People maybe heard our song on the radio or something but until they get several impressions of who you are - from whatever it is, whether TV or a live show, I feel like they don't quite connect the dots.
You're looking for purity, something that just isn't all garbled, someplace where you can feel the earth again, where you can feel what the wind feels like, where you can see the stars at night, and actually, not just look at little dots in the sky, but feel an energy from them.
Sit in front of an object of concentration with the eyes open. Focus on a candle flame, or a yantra, a little dot, something small. Just look at it. Focus on it until there is nothing else in your mind. This develops willpower.
Rhesus monkeys as well as human adults and older children living in a remote Amazon village have been given comparison and addition tasks using arrays of dots, and they show the same abilities we find in 5- year- old Boston children.
Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards 10 years later.
The gulfing whale was like a dot in the spell. Yet look upon it, and 'twould size and swell To its huge self, and the minutest fish Would pass the very hardest gazer's wish, And show his little eye's anatomy.
On the printed page, it's best to have everything - you know, to still mind your P's and Q's, dot your I's and cross your T's, yes.
If you look at Earth from space you see a dot, that's here. That's home. That's us. It underscores the responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
The Avatar does not as a rule interfere with the working out of human destinies. He will do so only in times of grave necessity - when He deems itabsolutely necessary from His all - encompassing point of view. For a single alteration in the planned and imprinted pattern in which each line and dot is interdependent, means a shaking up and a re-linking of an unending chain of possibilities and events.
Poetry is a sequence of dots and dashes, spelling depths, crypts, cross-lights, and moon wisps.
I suppose all moms have an idea who they hope their daughters will be. Like a connect-the-dots picture where you think you know what shape it will become. But then it's the daughter who draws the lines, and she might connect the dots you didn't intend, making a whole different picture. So I've gotta trust the dots she's given me, and she's gotta trust me to draw the picture myself.
Aight baby show me the exact spot, meet me at Hoyt & Schemethorn at 3 on the dot
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