Chip Kelly Quotes

She bypassed the junk food aisle altogether. “Okay, Faith. Hold up.” He grabbed the end of her cart and pulled it down the aisle. Snagging a bag of potato chips, he tossed them in her cart. “Better. Let’s find you some Twinkies.

The store was filled with hollow-eyed people standing in line: at the sandwich counter, at the soda fountain, at the register. All of them waiting, waiting, their hands full of candy, chips, cups of coffee, money. It was like purgatory, with snacks. Not just the customers; the employees, too. They worked the registers, squirted ketchup on hot dogs, piled limp lettuce onto flaccid lunch meat and waited for it to be over, waited until they could go home.

This is the great trap of life: One day rolls into the next, and a year goes by, and we still haven’t had that conversation we always meant to have. Still haven’t created that peak moment for our students. Still haven’t seen the northern lights. We walk a flatland that could have been a mountain range. It’s not easy to snap out of this tendency. It took a terminal illness for Gene O’Kelly to do it.

So who told you that you had a chip on your shoulder?" "Never mind." I shoved a piece of lasagna int my mouth so I couldn't answer. "It was a cute guy, wasn't it?" Kelly said. "Those types pf statements only bother you if cute guys say them." I didn't answer, and I didn't look at them. "Must have been a really cute guy." Aleeta said. Kelly leaned forward. "Who was it, and do you like him?" I took another bite of lasagna. "She likes him." Aleeta said with a smile. "Ryan Geno?" Kelly asked. "Arnold Carrillo?" "Colton Taft." Aleeta said as though sure she was right. Kelly nodded. "Which means we're really talking about Bryant, aren't we?" Aleeta leaned closer to the table and lowered her voice. "Charlotte likes Bryant?" "No," I said quickly. "No," Kelly repeated, "She doesn't like him, which is why Colton thinks she has a chip on her shoulder." She turned to me then, wearing a triumphant smile. "I'm right, aren't I?" I shuffled pieces of lasagna around my plate. "I should stop hanging out with smart people.

My sentences were such potato chips compared to his literary souffles.

An exploding nuclear bomb has a much higher power density than the sun because it is an unsustainable out-of-control flow of energy. A one-megaton nuclear bomb will release 1017 ergs, which is a lot of power. But the total lifetime of that explosion is only a hyperblink of 10-6 seconds. So if you “amortized” a nuclear blast so that it spent its energy over a full second instead of microseconds, its power density would be reduced to only 1011 ergs per second per gram, which is about the intensity of a laptop computer chip. Energywise, a Pentium chip may be better thought of as a very slow nuclear explosion.

About two weeks later, on September 10, 2005, O’Kelly died of a pulmonary embolism. What O’Kelly realized, in the shadow of his final days, was the extraordinary power of a moment. He wrote: I experienced more Perfect Moments and Perfect Days in two weeks than I had in the last five years, or than I probably would have in the next five years, had my life continued the way it was going before my diagnosis. Look at your own calendar. Do you see Perfect Days ahead? Or could they be hidden and you have to find a way to unlock them? If I told you to aim to create 30 Perfect Days, could you? How long would it take? Thirty days? Six months? Ten years? Never? I felt like I was living a week in a day, a month in a week, a year in a month. Now, take a second look at the beginning of O’Kelly’s memoir, especially those final two words: “I was blessed. I was told I had three months to live.” That opportunity to live was why he felt blessed. Shouldn’t we share his zeal for moments that matter? We may have more time to live than he did, but should that be a reason to put them off? This is the great trap of life: One day rolls into the next, and a year goes by, and we still haven’t had that conversation we always meant to have. Still haven’t created that peak moment for our students. Still haven’t seen the northern lights. We walk a flatland that could have been a mountain range. It’s not easy to snap out of this tendency. It took a terminal illness for Gene O’Kelly to do it. What would it take to motivate you to create a Perfect Moment?

You teach the fastest learner, and everyone else has to catch up.

We’re not an end-result operation. Our whole deal, why we’re good, is because we’re very, very focused on the process.

Woven deep into the vast communication networks wrapping the globe, we also find evidence of embryonic technological autonomy. The technium contains 170 quadrillion computer chips wired up into one mega-scale computing platform. The total number of transistors in this global network is now approximately the same as the number of neurons in your brain. And the number of links among files in this network (think of all the links among all the web pages of the world) is about equal to the number of synapse links in your brain. Thus, this growing planetary electronic membrane is already comparable to the complexity of a human brain. It has three billion artificial eyes (phone and webcams) plugged in, it processes keyword searches at the humming rate of 14 kilohertz (a barely audible high-pitched whine), and it is so large a contraption that it now consumes 5 percent of the world’s electricity. When computer scientists dissect the massive rivers of traffic flowing through it, they cannot account for the source of all the bits. Every now and then a bit is transmitted incorrectly, and while most of those mutations can be attributed to identifiable causes such as hacking, machine error, or line damage, the researchers are left with a few percent that somehow changed themselves. In other words, a small fraction of what the technium communicates originates not from any of its known human-made nodes but from the system at large. The technium is whispering to itself.

A bit early to put all the chips in the fryer just yet. Why don't you just wait and see? Remember: There's a reason the Fairy godmother gave Cinderella two glass slippers.

I am surprised at how many elected officials—even the good ones—spend so much time talking about the mechanics of politics and not matters of substance. They have this poker chip mentality, this overriding interest in retaining their seats or in moving their careers forward, and the business and game of politics, the political horse race, is all they talk about.

It is impossible to be bored at Mass if you come to listen to what God has to say to you right now in your life. It doesn't matter how good or bad the homily is; God will speak to you through it. It doesn't matter how good or bad the music is; God will speak to you through it. Whether it is a wonderful, prayerful mood or there are kids running up and down the aisle throwing crayons and eating potato chips; God will speak to you.

We cannot plan a party for the apocalypse because friends of the apocalypse know the apocalypse always shows up uninvited with a half-eaten bag of chips.