Proof without words — page 2
One cuts and the other chooses
The oldest rule in fair division promises each of two people at least half the cake by their own measure, and it keeps that promise exactly. It does not promise what the word "fair" is usually asked to carry, and the gap opens the moment the two measures disagree across the cut.
Three people and a trimmed piece
For two people, one cut and one choice deliver a division nobody would swap out of. For three, the same promise costs a trimming, a residue and a choosing order contrived so that an advantage once given cannot be taken back — and the verdict is not three numbers but a whole three-by-three matrix.
Two numbers that have to meet
Every linear program has a shadow — a second program built from the same numbers read the other way, whose minimum can never fall below the first's maximum. That much is a one-line calculation; the theorem is that the two numbers are always exactly equal.
The value from both sides
Two choosers move at the same instant, and each asks the cautious question — how much can be guaranteed, whatever the other does. With pure choices the two answers are usually different numbers; allow a probability and they are forced to be the same one.
The number that says how much room is left
A linear map takes the unit square to a parallelogram. The area of that parallelogram is one number, it is computable from the four entries of the matrix, and almost everything the determinant is used for is a restatement of that sentence.
Which side of the line is inside
A closed curve with no self-crossings divides the plane into an inside and an outside. Nobody doubts it, almost nobody can prove it, and on a curve wound tightly enough nobody can see which side a given point is on either.
Area by counting dots
Draw a polygon with every corner on a grid of dots. Count the dots strictly inside, add half the dots on the edge, subtract one — and the answer is the area, exactly, with no measuring anywhere.
The sum that fits in one square
Half, then a quarter, then an eighth, forever. Adding infinitely many things sounds like it should give infinity, and the picture that says otherwise is a square with a corner left uncut.
Nine points on one circle
Three midpoints, three feet of altitudes and three more midpoints. Nine points defined in three unrelated ways, on an arbitrary triangle, and all nine sit on one circle — checked here on two hundred and forty triangles as well as on the drawn one.
One line that halves them both
Two shapes lying anywhere on a page, of any sizes and any shapes at all. There is always a single straight line that cuts both of them into two equal halves at once — and finding it needs no cleverness, only the observation that a quantity which reverses sign has to pass through zero.
Sixteen trees on four points
How many ways are there to connect n labelled points into a single tree? The answer is n to the power n minus two, which is a strange enough formula to demand an explanation — and the explanation is a code that turns every tree into a short list of numbers, and every short list of numbers back into a tree.
Every ray comes back to the other focus
An ellipse has two foci and one property everybody remembers: the distances to them add to a constant. What that property forces is stranger and more useful — a mirror shaped like an ellipse sends every ray leaving one focus, in every direction, through the other.
The rope that squares a corner
The theorem turns two sides into a third. Run it backwards and it turns three lengths into a right angle — which is a different statement, needs its own proof, and is the only one of the two that has ever been used to build anything.
Two right angles and the diagonal of a box
The theorem applied once gives the diagonal of a floor. Applied again, standing on the first result, it gives the diagonal of the room — and the pattern does not stop at three, which is where a fact about triangles quietly becomes the definition of distance.
Two trees, and every edge in exactly one of them
Euler's formula is usually proved by deleting things until nothing is left. There is a better argument that deletes nothing — a tree through the corners and a tree through the faces, which between them use every edge once and can therefore be counted.
The path folded at its first touch
Counting the walks that touch a line looks like a question about a walk's whole history. Fold each one where it first touches, and it becomes a question about where walks end up — which is a binomial coefficient, and is already known.
Where the coefficients come from
The recipe for a square wave has a four over pi in front and a one over three on the second term, and the essay that built a square wave from sines used them without saying where they came from. They come from multiplying by one harmonic and taking the area.
Five colours, and a chain that can be followed
The four-colour theorem cannot be checked by a person. The five-colour theorem can, in a page, and the argument that does it is the one Kempe thought had settled four — with the exact step where it fails visible in the picture.
Three colours force a triangle
Cut a triangle into small ones and colour the corners under one restriction. However the cutting and the colouring are done, some small triangle ends up with all three colours — and the number of them is always odd.
A rectangle grown on two sides
A product of two changing quantities is the area of a rectangle whose sides both move. The extra area is two strips and a corner, and the whole of the product rule is the observation that the corner is negligible and the strips are not.
The map that trades circles for lines
Send every point to the one on the same ray whose distance multiplies with it to a fixed number, and circles become lines, lines become circles, angles survive untouched, and a ring of tangent circles falls out of a ring of equal ones.
The group drawn as a map
A multiplication table says everything about a group and shows nothing; lay the same information out as one dot per element and one arrow per generator, and multiplying becomes walking, distance becomes a word length, and the group acquires a shape.
The crossings that will not come out even
Draw a rearrangement as strings from one row of pegs to another and count where they cross. The count depends on how the strings are drawn; whether it is odd or even does not, and that single bit is what makes determinants exist and a sliding puzzle unsolvable.
Equal area is enough, and equal volume is not
Any two polygons of the same area can be cut into each other with finitely many straight cuts. The same sentence with area replaced by volume and polygon by polyhedron is false, and what blocks it is an angle.