Proof without words — page 4
The angle that is really an area
On a unit circle the angle t is the length of arc the point has walked, and it is also twice the area of the slice it has swept. The two readings agree on the circle and part company on the hyperbola — where arc length leads nowhere and area leads straight to cosh, sinh, and the exponential.
Sums of powers, read off a staircase
Add the first n squares, or cubes, or seventh powers, and the answer is always a polynomial in n. Its first term is the area under a curve, its second is half of the last step, and every term after that is a correction for the corners of a staircase — which is where the Bernoulli numbers come from, and why they eventually grow without bound.
Where two roots run into each other
Put every quadratic equation at a point of a plane, one coordinate per coefficient. Each possible root becomes a straight line there, every one of those lines touches the same parabola, and that parabola is the discriminant — the crease where the plane of roots is folded onto the plane of equations.
A rectangle cut by a curve
Integration by parts is taught as the product rule run backwards. It is also a picture: an increasing curve cuts a rectangle into two pieces, one of them the area under the curve and the other the area beside it, and the formula says only that the pieces fill the rectangle. Run repeatedly, the same cut produces the factorials and Wallis's product for π.
Moves that only ever add edges
Turán's theorem says the densest graph avoiding a complete graph on r + 1 points is the balanced r-part graph. Zykov's proof finds it by a sequence of moves — turn a point into a copy of a better-connected one it is not joined to — each of which adds edges and none of which can create the forbidden clique. A second proof spreads a unit of weight over the points and gets the same bound from a maximum.
The roots of the slope stay inside
Mark the roots of a polynomial in the complex plane and stretch a band around them. However the roots are arranged, the roots of the derivative land inside the band — never outside, never on a new frontier. The reason is a balance of pushes, the same reason makes the derivative of a cubic mark the foci of an ellipse nobody asked for, and a question about how far inside the roots must sit has been open since 1958.
The lines the optimum lies under
Change the resources a linear program is given and its best value changes too, tracing a graph. Every solution of the dual is a straight line lying above that graph, and the graph is exactly the lowest of those lines — a bent roof of finitely many planks. Require the answer to be in whole numbers and the roof stays where it was while the graph falls away beneath it in steps, and the space between is the part of the problem no price can see.
A walk that splices in its own detours
Euler proved that a walk crossing every bridge once needs every landmass to have an even number of bridges, and then stated, without proof, that this was enough. The missing half took 137 years, and it is not an argument but a procedure: walk until stuck, notice that stuck can only mean home, and splice in a detour from anywhere with edges left. The procedure never fails, and the reason fits in one sentence about arriving and leaving.
One number for every chord through a point
Draw any line through a point and let it cut a circle twice. The two distances from the point to the circle multiply to the same number whichever line is drawn — inside, outside, or grazing as a tangent. The number belongs to the point, and the reason it does not depend on the line is the inscribed angle: two chords through a point cut out two triangles with the same angles.
Every side measured by one diameter
In any triangle, divide each side by the sine of the angle opposite it: the three answers are equal. That much is the law of sines, and it is usually left there. The common answer has a name — it is the diameter of the circle through the triangle's corners — and the reason is the inscribed angle once more. It is also why the sine was first a half-chord, why Ptolemy's theorem is the addition formula, and why a circle can hold infinitely many points all at rational distances from each other.
Opposite labels that have to meet
Cut a square into triangles, label every corner +1, −1, +2 or −2, and insist only that opposite points of the edge get opposite labels. Somewhere inside, an edge must join a label to its negative. The proof counts quarter-turns round a diamond — an odd number on the boundary, zero in any triangle that avoids opposites — and making the triangles smaller turns the count back into the theorem about opposite points on the Earth.
Seven pieces and an equilateral middle
Morley's theorem has two proofs worth knowing, and they run in opposite directions. The trigonometric one starts from the triangle and computes each side of the inner one as 8R sin α sin β sin γ, symmetric in the three angles. Conway's starts from an equilateral triangle, builds six pieces round it from their angles alone, and shows they fit — so the triangle they make is whatever triangle was wanted, and its middle is equilateral because it was built that way.
The diagonal no unit measures
Draw the five diagonals of a regular pentagon and they make a star with a smaller pentagon at its centre. Subtract the side from the diagonal and what is left is the smaller pentagon's diagonal; subtract that from the side and what is left is its side. The pentagon has handed back a smaller copy of itself, and it will do so for ever — which means no unit, however small, measures both the side and the diagonal an exact whole number of times.
A fraction on the circle forces a whole point
If a number is a sum of two squares of fractions, it is a sum of two squares of whole numbers. Draw the circle, mark the rational point, join it to the nearest lattice point and follow the line to where it meets the circle again: the new point is rational too, with a smaller denominator. Repeat, and the denominators fall until they reach one. The argument needs no primes at all — only the fact that every point of the plane is within distance one of the lattice.
A rent nobody envies
Three housemates, three rooms that are not alike, one rent. Every way of splitting the rent is a point of a triangle; ask, at each point of a fine grid, which room one housemate would take at those prices, taking turns so that each small triangle has one corner for each of them. Sperner's lemma then promises a small triangle where all three would choose different rooms — and as the grid is refined, the envy at that triangle shrinks to nothing.
Two numbers decide the flow
A linear system in the plane has four coefficients, and what its solutions do forever afterwards — spiral in, race out, swing round, or split along two lines — is decided by two of the numbers made from them. The plane of trace against determinant is a complete map of the possibilities, and the only places it cannot decide are the lines where it changes its mind.
The error that keeps coming back to its worst
Judge a polynomial by its largest error on an interval and there is exactly one best one of each degree. It is recognised without comparing it to anything else — its error rises to the same largest size, alternately above and below, one more time than there are coefficients.
Prices at every corner
The duality theorem says a linear program's best value equals its dual's, and says nothing about how to find either. The simplex method finds both at once — it walks from corner to corner, and at each one asks the constraints that meet there for prices. A negative price names an edge that climbs; when none is negative, the prices are the proof.
Every point has a partner across the bisectors
Draw the three lines from the corners of a triangle through any point, reflect each in the bisector of its own angle, and the three reflections meet again. The pairing this makes swaps the centroid with the symmedian point and the orthocentre with the circumcentre, bends every straight line into a conic through the corners, and sends the circumcircle to infinity.
A triangle that fits once fits everywhere
Put one circle inside another and try to fit a triangle between them, its corners on the outer circle and its sides touching the inner. Usually no triangle fits. But if one does, then one fits starting from every point of the outer circle — and whether it does is decided by a single equation in the two radii and the distance between the centres.
Every point at the average of its neighbours
A planar graph can be drawn without crossings, but finding such a drawing looks like a search. Tutte found in 1963 that it is not: pin one face to a convex polygon, put every other point at the average of its neighbours, and the drawing that results has straight edges, convex faces and no crossings at all — provided no two points can cut the graph apart. It is the position a network of equal springs settles into, and it is also where a random walk expects to leave.
A band of a sphere is a band of its cylinder
Cut a sphere with two parallel planes and the band between them has exactly the area of the band the same planes cut from the cylinder wrapped round the sphere — whatever the band's latitude. Near the equator the sphere's band is wide and nearly upright; near a pole it is narrow and nearly flat; and the two effects cancel exactly. Archimedes proved it, wanted it on his tomb, and it gives the area of the sphere, the only honest way to pick a random point on it, and a map on which no country is the wrong size.
An area measured by walking round it
A surveyor's instrument from 1854 measures the area of any shape on a map by having its pointer steered once round the boundary; a small wheel rolls and slides, and its reading, times the length of one arm, is the area. Nothing touches the inside. The reason is that area can be written as an integral over the boundary — Green's theorem — and the instrument is that integral built in brass. Walk a curve that crosses itself and the same integral counts some regions twice.
The spiral that measures its own circle
Let a ray turn steadily while a point moves steadily out along it, and the point draws Archimedes' spiral. Distance from the centre is then proportional to angle, so dividing a length divides an angle in any ratio. The spiral's second power is stranger: the tangent at the end of the first turn cuts off, on a line through the centre, a straight length exactly equal to the circumference of the circle through that end — a curved length laid out straight, and with it the circle squared. The catch is the tangent itself.