The Secretary of Agriculture stepped forward with a big briefcase. “Sir, I’ve spent years working to develop a synthetic coffee substitute for just such an emergency.” He pulled out a big test tube filled with liquid. “This little concoction is the answer. It’s just as good as real coffee.” The room was silent. “It’s orange,” said the President. “Yes. That can’t be changed.” “Does it have any... other shortcomings?” “It has been known to cause occasional…body-death.” The room was silent. “But it tastes like coffee?” the President finally asked.
Price is a public matter — a negotiation between supply and demand. A thing’s price is set in competition. So the price of a car is determined by how much some people want it, how much they are willing to pay, and how ready the manufacturer is to sell. It’s a public activity: lots of people are involved in the process, but your voice is almost never important in setting the price. Value, on the... other hand, is a personal, ethical and aesthetic judgment — assigned finally by individuals, and founded on their perceptiveness, wisdom and character.
This poem is concerned with language on a very plain level. Look at it talking to you. You look out the window Or pretend to fidget. You have it but you don’t have it. You miss it, it misses you. You miss each other.
I would tend to believe Hanlon’s Razor in these occasions (“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity”), but in reality, there are hackers and spammers and spyware and viruses and key-loggers and all other manner of malicious actors. Nothing is completely secure. And it doesn’t help when everybody you work with communicates without facial expressions or tonal inflection through that hive mind of social anxiety disorders and passive aggression called the internet.
Wanting to be liked means being a supporting character in your own life, using the cues of the actors around you to determine your next line rather than your own script. It means that your self-worth will always be tied to what someone else thinks about you, forever out of your control.
we know that in his daily life man is ever, to a greater or a lesser degree, hag-ridden. Even when all goes well, all does not go perfectly well. Life remains, on the face of it, absurd. What is the meaning of this strange carnival? Why are we here on this fleck of mud, revolving in darkness?
The Bond Rule would provide each Oscar winner with a busman’s holiday, an opportunity to make a film without directly confronting the pressures and expectations of their recent award. And it would provide audiences with something beyond simple entertainment: the productive collision of cliché and artistic vision.
But the hashtag, for the dexterous user, is a versatile tool — one that can be deployed in a host of linguistically complex ways. In addition to serving as metadata (#whatthetweetisabout), the hashtag gives the writer the opportunity to comment on his own emotional state, to sarcastically undercut his own tweet, to construct an extra layer of irony, to offer a flash of evocative imagery or to... deliver metaphors with striking economy. It’s a device that allows the best writers to operate in multiple registers at once, in a compressed space. It’s the Tuvan throat singing of the Internet.
As soon as we’re done growing up, it seems, we must face what to do with our lives. No one had ever explained things to me, other than stuff about taking vitamins or carrying mace or avoiding herpes no matter what. I was so filled with wanting; I craved to know a little bit of anything, facts, some meaning, if a Facebook friend was a real friend. Was there a secret order, an unshared code? I felt like I’d gambled and lost, yet I hadn’t started playing.
It’s not entirely clear what applications this data would have, like the research on “passenger/crew exit from space.” The morning of the jump, people asked me whether the point was to prove that astronauts could jump from the International Space Station in an emergency. It wasn’t. Baumgartner’s 128,000 foot altitude (he overshot his mark) is only about 24 miles; the ISS orbits at an altitude of... about 200 miles. Not to mention the astronauts on the ISS are weightless because they’re falling around the Earth at the same rate as the station, and that wouldn’t change if they stepped outside
“Why should a lobster be any more ridiculous than a dog? Or a cat, or a gazelle, or a lion, or any other animal that one chooses to take for a walk? I have a liking for lobsters. They are peaceful, serious creatures. They know the secrets of the sea, they don’t bark, and they don’t gobble up your monadic privacy like dogs do. And Goethe had an aversion to dogs, and he wasn’t mad!”
I’ve found that the first part of learning to say NO is learning to accept that offers and opportunities are merely an indication that you’re on the right path- not that you’ve arrived at a final destination you can never find again. If someone is choosing YOU, it means you’re doing something right. And that is the biggest opportunity you can receive- the chance to recognize that your hard work is paying off. And if you continue to do good work, those opportunities will continue – and improve- over time.
I’ve always thought that it’s not enough to call something a classic; I hold by Walter Benjamin’s aphorism about the millipede: that it got its name because no one bothered to count the legs. Criticism is, among other things, counting the legs, and the constant reëvaluation of movies, familiar and arcane, is as important as the rediscovery of hidden treasures and the heralding of new ones.
When you see a person struggling, give them hope. Let them know you see something in them that they don't yet see - even if, sometimes, you don't yet see it either. Belief, founded or unfounded, is incredibly powerful--and when someone else believes in us, it's unforgettable.
Susan could fall in love with a book in more or less the way one falls in love with a person. Yes, you can provide, if asked, a list of your loved one’s lovable qualities: he’s kind and funny and smart and generous and he knows the names of trees. But he’s also more than amalgamation of qualities. You love him, the entirety of him, which can’t be wholly explained by even the most exhaustive... explication of his virtues. And you love him no less for his failings. O.K., he’s bad with money, he can be moody sometimes, and he snores. His marvels so outshine the little complaints as to render them ridiculous.
It was this “other” Internet that grew into the one you know so well, the one occupied by so many billions of different persons and, frankly, so full of so many confusing situations. (I can barely use it without becoming confused, though I suppose if I were there more often I’d learn to accept the conditions as normal.) Meanwhile, the hundred dwelled within their quiet, higher Internet under the... leader’s cultivating hand. Our leader had only two rules, both brilliantly simple: no money, and no animals. The implications are enormous. Picture, if you will, your own Internet subject to those strictures; I doubt you can.