Euclid was the dude who gave us (Euclidean) geometry.
He included the postulate below.
Given any straight line and a point not on it, there “exists one and only one straight line which passes” through that point and never never intersects the first line, no matter how far they are extended.
Well, this was later replaced with the assumption that more than one parallel can be drawn to a given line through a given point. One could also make the assumption no parallels can be drawn thusly. This led to a new type of geometry.
It was after this shift in thought that mathematics was recognized to be much more abstract than traditionally supposed:
- Because math statements can be construed in principle to be about anything, rather than some inherently circumscribed set of objects or traits of objects.
- Because the validity of math statements is grounded in the structure of statements rather than in the nature of a particular subject matter.
- Because any special meaning that may be associated with the terms in the postulates plays no essential role in deriving the theorems.
*Clumsily articulated from readings by Douglas Hofstadter as well as Roger Penrose
It’s a face in my minds eye, that of a man.
A particular man, whose face I knew not until gravaty presented it.
The cheeks of older, the eyes of “I’m sure I know you from before”.
Effing idiot, you do not end sentences with prepositions.
Silly boy in need of correcting.
Sir, should you prefer.
I am Miss and I will shatter your soul to pieces of glad bliss.
Speak, won’t you?`
Benevolent disrespect with intent of disrming.
Shamefully disarming with easy kindness that makes man howl.
Gracious pain unexpected spurns blissful.
So breath deep in anticipation.
Tell me I’m wrong and to stop my shameful wantoness.
No one will. They see it not or remain silent in want or delusion.
Squeak out or leap and jump til I’m dizzy.
I’m simple but elegant in my simplicity.
My intelligence is eerie and of touch.
To exploit is to ruin that sought.
So just show lovesome, desperate want.
It must be taught, sometimes trained.
Only delicately forced, by choice.
Desire and drive, to a specific end.
That’s the pleasure of one. And the other who relents.
The absence thereof is the sorrow of another one.
Swelling into dew kissed morning wettness.
What can you do?
Such esoteria. I write my best to music and with limited awareness.
WTF does that even mean?
Glad for it on my end,