Beauty, I suppose, is a rather personal thing. Some detest the rain, and others cry in it and feel the force of life itself in drops as it hammers on their skin.
Some fear and remonstrate against a single use of anything not sanctioned by ancestral coders in whom they’ve learned to place their trust. As though experimentation, thought, invention, play, discovery, and learning were some capital offense.
Some of the authors in this book have quite deftly shown the beauty in the structure and the safety of those parts of the language we’ve accepted as permissible.
Others have, with expertise and confidence and thorough knowledge of their craft, demonstrated elegance and let us see the power and succinctness that these oft lambasted features can grant a learned user.
The work of Dalí is often absurd, disturbing, strange, enchanting, comical, and surprising—and it is beautiful.
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