In television, images are projected at you. You are the screen. The images wrap around you. You are the vanishing point.
The subject says: I see first many things which dance... then everything gradually becomes connected.
What we call a mind is nothing but a heap or collection of different perceptions, united together by certain relations and supposed, though falsely, to be endowed with a perfect simplicity and identity.
Intuition was not just visual but also auditory and kinesthetic. Those who watched Feynman in moments of intense concentration came away with a strong, even disturbing sense of the physicality of the process, as though his brain did not stop with the grey matter but extended through every muscle in his body.
The mind is a strange machine which can combine the materials offered to it in the most astonishing ways.
The task of understanding is not to replicate in conceptual form something that already exists, but rather to create a wholly new realm, that together with the world given to our senses constitutes the fullness of reality.
Those dabs of paint and lines become art when form and flow are created out of lower-level perceptual elements. When they combine harmoniously they give rise to perspective, foreground and background, and ultimately to emotion and other aesthetic attributes.
There is a property in the horizon which no man has, but he whose eyes can integrate all the parts,--that is, the poet.
