Sentences with phrase «original vision ended»

Not exact matches

However, in the end, the project was shut down voluntarily in favor of advocating for the Bitcoin Cash project, which the development team states that it believes will fulfill Satoshi's original vision as expressed in his whitepaper release.

It is to be remembered that at this time New Testament scholarship had little if any awareness of the apocalyptic ground of the New Testament, the transformation of New Testament scholarship entailed by this realization did not occur until the end of the nineteenth century, but already the original apocalyptic ground of Jesus and of primitive Christianity was profoundly recovered and renewed in the radically new imaginative vision of Blake, just as it was in the radically new philosophical thinking of Hegel.

This grand vision in turn required not only that Whitehead's original line of thought, unredacted by Hartshorne, Christian, Leclerc and Cobb, be recovered (a task Lewis shared with Jorge Nobo), but also that the problems that Whitehead faced, as Whitehead envisioned them, and his various attempts at solution (ending presumably in the views published and taken by most of us as the last word on the subject) be likewise exposed and rethought.

In fact, he revealed that there was a time that he considered altering the script specifically to avoid these inevitable criticisms and / or interpretations, but he stuck to his original vision in the end.

But unlike the original, this new project has a budget to match its ambition and the end result is a similarly complicated, yet vastly easier to understand thriller full of wondrous vision and mind - boggling special effects.

The problem could be the result of a young writer (first timer Brian Tucker) bending his vision when a team of hired professionals comes in to re-work his original and probably brilliant ending.

Not factoring in a budget can lead to trouble, often resulting with an end product that doesn't meet the author's original vision for the book, or the book simply doesn't have the quality it needs to find success with the target market.

Originally promising branching side - quests, deep NPCs and a plethora of locations to explore what we've actually gotten is a much simpler game, albeit one that attempts to keep some of its original vision with the inclusion of multiple endings and a few other things.

While this may end up not being an issue, we don't know how much of the series original vision is still in tact.

However, the PS4 was more capable of approaching the lofty original vision we had in mind for the game, so, in the end, I made the decision to switch.

The first Rayman game ended up metamorphosing and coming to the Atari Jaguar, Sega Saturn, and PS1 instead, with the original SNES vision lost to time.

Even though Final Fantasy XII still looked good at the end of the PS2's life cycle, you have to assume now that the remaster looks much closer to the developer's original vision.

Lorne's original vision was to create a series of five videogames, the Oddworld Quintology, with each game introducing a new hero who would join the existing band of revolutionaries on their journey to put an end to the exploitation of cultures, people and the natural world by profiteering capitalists.

I'm interested in those individuals who asserted a highly original and personal vision of art, and who ended up paying for this autonomy dearly in terms of international recognition.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,