Résultats pour "Bora Bora" dans Toutes les catégories

The human being is the only creature that does not merely live in the world but reads it. We wake into a flood of signs — words, faces, memories, headlines, silences — and we cannot help turning each one into meaning. This is not a hobby of scholars. It is the condition of being human, and it reaches from the way the brain assembles a sunrise to the way a civilization argues about its past.

What if Hinduism is not merely a religion in the modern Western sense, but also the preservation of one of humanity's oldest and most sophisticated explorations of consciousness, reality, and the structure of existence? What if the Upanishads are not only sacred texts, but fragments of a profound philosophical architecture whose depth continues to unfold across centuries of interpretation? What if yoga, beyond its contemporary forms, originally emerged as a disciplined method for transforming perception and investigating the nature of mind itself?

A proton has not changed since the universe was a second old. A knot tied in a loop of string cannot be undone without cutting. A star burns steadily for ten billion years, and then, in its final hour, snaps into one of exactly three possible afterlives. Across the whole night sky, galaxies hang in a single vast web that looks the same in every direction. We are used to explaining each of these marvels with its own private science, in its own private dialect.

Del has two rules. One: Stay away from royalty. Two: Don’t fall in love. The first is because Del is secretly Adeleine Ventris, runaway princess. After the death of her sister at the hand of her lover, Del has fled her family, home, and all the responsibilities that come with being the...

In the second half of the nineteenth century, a brilliant and gentle Frenchman sat down to do the modern world an enormous favor. He would explain Jesus. He would strip away the miracles, the resurrection, the alarming claim of divinity, and hand back a figure everyone could finally admire without embarrassment: a tender Galilean moralist, a poet of the hills, a man. The book was a sensation. It was also, this book argues, a catastrophe of comprehension—and not a unique one.

Dans cet ouvrage incontournable, Robert Greene nous propose d’apprendre à reprendre le pouvoir sur notre vie, à travers 365 lois tirées de ses réflexions sur la nature humaine.

In the winter of 1437, on a ship crawling home from Constantinople, a German churchman was struck by an idea so strange that he spent the rest of his life defending it: the highest form of knowledge is knowing, with precision, what you cannot know. His name was Nicholas of Cusa, and he was, by turns, a boatman's son, a lawyer, a cardinal, a mathematician, a failed reformer, an accused heretic, and quite possibly the most modern mind of the fifteenth century. Five hundred years before relativity, he argued that the universe has no center and that all motion is relative.

Renowned French neuropsychiatrist and psychoanalyst Boris Cyrulnik's parents were deported to a concentration camp during the Second World War. They never returned. This early personal trauma at the age of five led Cyrulnik to his life's work helping individuals and countries come to terms with their pasts and forge ahead to create positive futures. It is his firm belief that trauma does not equal destiny—that, rather, we can find strength in the face of pain.

Ludwig Wittgenstein published a single slim book in his lifetime, announced that it had solved every problem in philosophy, and went off to teach schoolchildren in the Austrian countryside. Then he came back and spent the rest of his life dismantling it. This book follows that astonishing turn, and the one provocation that runs through all of it: that the limits of our language are the limits of our world. It is a beautiful claim. It is also, this book argues, not quite true.

Somewhere in the popular imagination there lives a tidy little robot called The Scientific Method. It wears a lab coat, it never guesses, it never sulks, and it grinds out truth by turning a logical crank. Paul Feyerabend spent his life arguing that this robot is a fairy tale—and that the real story of how we come to know things is far stranger, far messier, and far more human than anyone wants to admit.

Emil Cioran wrote for sixty years about the pointlessness of writing, preached suicide, and died at eighty-four. He is quoted more than almost any thinker of the last century and read less than almost any. His admirers treat him as an atmosphere. His detractors treat him as a pose. Both agree, without noticing that they agree, that his sentences are not the sort of thing one checks. This book checks them. Thirty-three of his central claims are stated plainly, given the strongest case that can be made for them, and then tested to see whether they survive. The results satisfy nobody.

Mikhail Bakunin was the most incandescent revolutionary of the nineteenth century: a Russian aristocrat who traded his estate for the barricade, a veteran of three uprisings, a prisoner of three empires, the rival who nearly broke Karl Marx, and the trusting soul whom the young fanatic Nechayev played like an instrument. He gave anarchism its most famous sentence—that the urge to destroy is also a creative urge—and he believed, with his whole enormous heart, that freedom was something you seized by tearing the old world down.

Vous croulez sous vos listes de tâches au travail et à la maison ? La méthode GTD (Getting Things Done, d'après le titre américain du livre) ou l'art de l'efficacité sans le stress est une méthode qui permet d'accroître vos capacités d'organisation, votre efficacité et votre créativité sans multiplier vos efforts. Déjà appliquée dans les plus grandes entreprises internationales, elle peut transformer radicalement votre manière de vivre et de travailler. Son principe: votre efficacité est directement proportionnelle à votre capacité à vous détendre. Si votre esprit est clair et vos idées organisées, vous pouvez améliorer vos performances sans subir de stress.

Every age has its loud philosophers. In 1869 a young Prussian named Eduard von Hartmann published a thousand-page book about an invisible force he called the Unconscious—a force, he claimed, that guided everything from the growth of plants to the rise and fall of civilizations. The book sold out. It went through eleven editions in his lifetime. Educated Germans agreed that something profound had been said. Then, slowly, almost everyone forgot it. This book is not a portrait of Eduard von Hartmann.

He walked across the steppes of what is now Ukraine for the better part of forty years, refusing every form of capture the eighteenth century could offer him—academic chairs, court appointments, monastic vows, a fixed address, even, in a sense, his own name. When he died in a village in November of 1794, he asked that a single sentence be cut into his stone: The world tried to catch me but could not. The world has been trying ever since.

You keep secrets from the world. But did you know your own body keeps secrets from you? Right now, as you listen to this sentence, your immune system is waging a war you will never feel. Your cells are partitioning information with a sophistication that would humble the CIA. Your brain—that magnificent engine of curiosity—is processing ten billion bits per second while graciously allowing you to be aware of roughly fifty. The rest? Classified. Need-to-know basis. And you, apparently, do not need to know. Secrecy is not a human invention.

We keep dreaming the same dream. A society without friction. A community where everyone finally agrees, where the edges line up and nothing rattles. Every age draws the blueprint again—the perfect city, the just republic, the classless future—and every age discovers, often in blood, that the blueprint has a flaw built into its first line: to make the many into one, you must first decide who does not count. The French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy spent a lifetime refusing that dream without surrendering the longing underneath it. Yes, he said, we belong together.

Die Zukunft ist kein Zufall mehr.

Sie kann berechnet werden.

Was als wissenschaftlicher Durchbruch beginnt, stellt alles infrage, was wir über Zeit zu wissen glauben. Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft sind nicht getrennt – sie reagieren aufeinander.

Fünf Menschen stoßen auf Spuren einer Erkenntnis, die nicht für sie gedacht war.

Nietzsche said: push the falling. A plush bear says: sit down. Have some tea. Boris Krige—former priest, systems theorist, and the man who may have solved the universe with one formula and zero free parameters—has spent twenty years arguing with a dead philosopher at his kitchen table. The philosopher said God is dead. Kriger yells at God regularly and considers this proof of His existence. The philosopher said pity is poison. Kriger ran a shelter for fourteen homeless people in his own house for nine years. The philosopher said the strong must overcome.

Twelve light-years from Earth, a star burns quietly in the constellation of the Whale. It is the nearest solitary star that resembles our Sun—a little older, a little cooler, a little poorer in the heavy elements from which planets are made. For sixty years, astronomers have trained the world’s finest instruments on Tau Ceti, searching for planets, for signals, for signs of life. What they have found is something more unexpected and more instructive: a masterclass in the limits of human knowledge.