Deleting Text Quotes

Cutting PBS support (0.012% of budget) to help balance the Federal budget is like deleting text files to make room on your 500Gig hard drive

I texted Kaidan, who was listed in my contacts under “James,” for James Bond. He’d chosen it. He had me listed as “Hot Chick From Gig.” Video chat in 30. His immediate response made me shake my head. Clothing optional? It was nice to know he could keep a sense of humor in the face of calamity. Or maybe he wasn’t joking... “Are you two flirting?” Patti asked, her eyes darting to me from the road. I blushed and deleted his message.

Human relationships are rich and they're messy and they're demanding. And we clean them up with technology. Texting, email, posting, all of these things let us present the self as we want to be. We get to edit, and that means we get to delete, and that means we get to retouch, the face, the voice, the flesh, the body -- not too little, not too much, just right.

It's awkward and silent as I wait for you to say, what I need to hear now, your sincere apology. When you mean it, I'll believe it, if you text it I'll delete, let's be clear. Oh, I'm not coming back, you're taking 7 steps here...

Please delete my number – because I’m deleting yours. And you can find someone new to text your maybes to.

Okay, it’s late. I’m about to call you and tell you goodnight, but true to form, I had to get all my thoughts out to you in a letter first. I know I’ve said it before, but I love that we still write letters to each other. Texts get deleted and conversations fade, but I swear I’ll have every single letter you’ve ever written me until the day I die. #SnailMailForever

She’d inherited Eli’s old phone and often got texts meant for him. One night, that senior girl who always talked about ballet and wore leotards and jeans to school texted twenty-four times. One of the texts had said—Deenie never forgot it—MY PUSSY ACHES FOR U. It had to have been the worst thing she’d ever read. She’d read it over and over before deleting it.

I wrote something incredibly sappy and thought about deleting it. But you know what? Text messages are for saying the things you're afraid to say aloud.

Love you. A stranger accidentally text messaged me the other day. I didn't delete it. I look at it before I go to bed at night and sometimes during the day. I know it wasn't meant for me... but it's nice to pretend it was.

[Mani] deleted as interpolations all texts in the New Testament that assumed either the order and goodness of matter or the inspiration and authority of the Old Testament. Otherwise he thought his expurgated New Testament a sound book.

How do I know I’m in love if I don’t want to kill myself all the time? Mavis is the nicest person I’ve ever met, and it was hard to recognize I was in love with her because she never let so much time elapse between “hey wats up winky-face emoji” texts that I had deleted her number and had to respond, “NEW PHONE WHO DIS.

Alone Together I want us to be together, but I want to stay connected. I want your attention, but I want to manage mine, opting in and opting out, sponging up what's relevant, discarding the expendable. I can't get enough of you, not too close, not too far, at a manageable distance, at a convenient time. Let me tell you how much I loveyou, let me count the ways, by text, by email, by post, by Tweet. If I've said too much I can edit. If I've show myself too vulnerable I can delete. If I'm at a loss for words I can Google. Come to think of it, I'd much rather text than talk. Come to think of it you're dispensable too. I just need the illusion of love, without all its messy demands, without its unpredictability, without the risk. I just need Facebook because nothing beats being alone together.

I bring up my last text, sent to Strane four hours ago: So, are you ok . . . ? He still hasn’t responded, hasn’t even read it. I type out another—I’m here if you want to talk—then think better and delete it, send instead a wordless line of question marks. I wait a few minutes, try calling him, but when the voicemail kicks in, I shove my phone in my pocket and leave my apartment, yanking the door closed behind me. There’s no need to try so hard. He created this mess. It’s his problem, not mine

Just before she was about to hit send she deleted the kisses. In case the therapist thought she was leading him on. Then she thought of all the actual kissing they'd done last night. Ridiculous. She may just as well kiss him in a text message. She made it three kisses and went to hit send, but then she wondered if it would seem overly romantic, and changed it back to one kiss, but that seemed stingy, compared to his two, as if he was trying to make a point She made a 'tch' sounded, added back in the second kiss and hit send.

I looked through her phone a couple of times when she was in the shower, searching for text messages, but found nothing. If she’d received any incriminating texts, she had deleted them. She wasn’t stupid, apparently, just occasionally careless. It was possible I’d never know the truth. I might never find out. In a way, I hoped I wouldn’t. Kathy peered at me as we sat on the couch after the walk. “Are you all right?” “What do you mean?” “I don’t know. You seem a bit flat.” “Today?” “Not just today. Recently.” I evaded her eyes. “Just work. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Kathy nodded. A sympathetic squeeze of my hand. She was a good actress. I could almost believe she cared. “How are rehearsals going?” “Better. Tony came up with some good ideas. We’re going to work late next week to go over them.” “Right.” I no longer believed a word she said. I analyzed every sentence, the way I would with a patient. I was looking for subtext, reading between the lines for nonverbal clues—subtle inflections, evasions, omissions. Lies. “How is Tony?” “Fine.” She shrugged, as if to indicate she couldn’t care less. I didn’t believe that.

Letter Six To The One Who Left Too Soon Do you regret it? Does it hurt when you see my pictures? Does it hurt when you read my words? Do you wonder if my poems are about you? Do you sometimes write a long message to apologize, then delete it? Was it me? Was it you? Was it timing? Was I too hard to love? Were you too scared of loving again? It’s hard for me to believe that you’re a bad person because you were so kind to me. It’s hard for me to believe that it was all fake because it felt genuine. It’s hard for me to believe that you had that connection with everyone because I didn’t feel like you were pretending. I didn’t feel like you were acting. Was it so hard to ask me on a few more dates? Was it so hard to ask me a few more personal questions? Was it so hard to text me back to keep the conversation going? Was it so hard to like me? Why am I always the one who’s ready? The one who’s willing to stay, the one who’s willing to try against all odds and the only one who’s willing to fight? Why am I always the one dreaming and you’re the one waking me up? Why does it begin with smiles and end with tears? Why does it always have to be you against me? Why can’t it be us against the world? I hope one day you tell me why you left too soon. I hope one day you tell me the real reason. I hope one day you tell me the truth. Sometimes I wonder about you. What you’re doing, who you’re with, why you picked her and if you ever think about me. Sometimes I wonder if you will ever reach out, just to say you miss me, say sorry or just to hear my voice. And sometimes I wish you had stayed. I hope you learn how to stay. I hope you stop leaving. I hope you learn that staying is the only way to open your heart and stop running. I hope you learn that some people—like me—would’ve done anything for you to stay. I hope you learn that there’s so much more value in staying than leaving. I hope you learn that staying doesn’t always hurt.

Then he thinks that there should be a place in every town where people could put rescued or found things. Not just objects, but snippets of forgotten languages, or misused time – an hour that can never be lived again. It would be a place where lost faiths could be collected, as well as keys, gloves and love letters never sent. Here you could find extinct animals and old wives’ tales vanished in history; a whole shelf of unfinished songs, discontinued books, deleted texts. It would be a safe for fleeting emotions – the first flush of love, or a particular scent on a sunny day that is never savoured again. Among the dog leads, phones and hats, there would be babies hoped for and lost. All this would be remembered: missed opportunities, mislaid friends, the smile of a wife. It would be a place for lost things.

Once the vehicle started moving, she realized she had no idea where she was going. Wasn’t that always the case? Her phone chimed. Nick. Where did you go? Quinn deleted it. Then she started a new text. Playing sentry again tonight? The response text took less than three seconds. Why? Need rescuing, baby girl? Quinn smiled. Now that you mention it, yeah. I do. Her phone vibrated almost immediately. What’s up? I’m on a bus, bound for nowhere. Sweetheart, it’s a TRAIN bound for nowhere. Her heart gave a little squee at the endearment. It meant nothing and everything all at once. She smiled over her phone while she texted back. Well, I’m on a bus with no destination in mind. Want me to come get you? Quinn stopped and stared at the phone. Was this dangerous? It didn’t feel dangerous. Tyler had had ample opportunity to hurt her last night and he hadn’t. When Becca had first told her about finding Chris in the middle of a fight with Tyler and Seth in the parking lot, Quinn’s first question had been, “Why?” She’d never gotten a good answer. She slid her thumbs across the face of her phone. Are more taquitos in my future? Play your cards right and there might be a soda, too. His texts were teasing, so she wasn’t sure if his offer to come get her was genuine. She didn’t want to get off the bus until she knew for sure. Then her phone lit up with a new message. Don’t make me ride the bus all night. Where should I pick you up? “Excuse me,” she called to the driver. “What’s the next stop?” “Annapolis Mall. West side.” Next stop is Annapolis Mall. West side. Well look at that. You just got upgraded to a soft pretzel. See you in 10.

Like Felicity they methodically checked the house office, safe and family bank account details and financial affairs. Angelina then had Inspector Mick bug the boys’ homes, cars and offices and with the information she acquired came knowledge and contacts. She wrote a programme called listen, it saved all conversations digitally and converted it to text into a computer file in a remote location not traceable to her or anybody at 3WW but it recorded all his illicit dealings and it gave her valuable information. She hacked into their individual MIS computer systems and sent spyware via e-mail called virus protection free download and once opened it went through their c drive, all files on their computers, and copied all files to a ip address of a remote computer of Angelina’s request, in a phantom company named Borrow. All data was heavily encrypted and deleted after access and storage was onto an external hard drive storage box, deleting the electronic footpath. The spyware recorded their strokes on the keyboard and Angelina was able to secure even their banking pins and passwords and all their computer passwords. She had a brilliant computer mind, wasted in librarianship

Cut or copy the selected text: On the popup menu, tap Cut to copy and remove the text, or tap Copy to simply copy the text. The copied text will go into the Clipboard. Paste and insert text: Tap the position in the text where you want to paste the contents of the Clipboard. A marker will appear below the text field, and you can drag this marker to adjust the position of the blinking cursor if necessary. Next, tap the marker and then tap Paste on the menu that appears. The text from the Clipboard will be inserted at the position of the cursor. Paste and replace text: First select the block of text you want to replace, as explained above. Then, tap Paste on the popup menu. The contents of the Clipboard will replace the selected text. Delete a block of text: Select the text you want to delete, as explained above. Then press the Backspace key (). Note that the Clipboard works across all built-in Kindle Fire software as well as installed apps. So for example, if you copied a web address (a URL) from a web page, you could later paste it into the Search/Address field in the browser, eliminating the need to manually type the web address, a slow and error-prone process. (The browser

Eliza: Hey Mr Barnes. I’m really upset with my last test grade. Can I sex it up with you after school on Monday? – Eliza Barnes:   come late after school so no teachers see us. B+ alright? I’m getting horny just thinking about you. Eliza: Umm. Mr Barnes. I meant to say make it up with you. Barnes:   This is awkward. I’ll give you an A if you never repeat this and delete.

For example, I keep all my actual writing in the Manuscript section divided by chapter, and then, in the research section, I have folders for Setting, Characters, and Plot with a separate area for my cuts file (where I put big blocks of text that I’ve cut out of the story but can’t bring myself to delete yet) and my writing worksheet, which is the table I use to keep track of my word counts.

The B text omits thirty-six lines of the A text but adds 676 new lines.’ ‘Who made the changes?’ Elisabetta asked. ‘Marlowe?’ ‘That we don’t know. Perhaps he wrote a second version. Perhaps an unknown collaborator or hired hand made changes to suit the Elizabethan audience after Marlowe’s death. As a playwright of his era, Marlowe would have had nothing to do with the publication of his plays and only a very limited control over the content of the performances. Scenes could have been added or deleted by another writer, by actors – by anyone, really. Unless future handwritten manuscripts turn up we may never know.

Recently deceased 26-year-old investigative journalist Bre Payton reported at The Federalist on December 13, 2018 that a newly-released DOJ Office of the Inspector General report reveals that Mueller’s Special Counsel Investigation (SCI) Records Officer deleted text messages that Strzok and Page exchanged while working on the Russian Collusion investigation. Deleting government records is a violation of the Federal Records Act. Destruction of evidence is also considered a crime. “The 11-page report reveals that almost a month after Strzok was removed from Mueller’s team, his government-issued iPhone was wiped clean and restored to factory settings by another individual working in Mueller’s office” Payton reported.

Having voted for independence, they now needed to discuss and vote on the text of a declaration of independence that Thomas Jefferson had drawn up. The text Jefferson had written was read aloud, and throughout the day the delegates made changes. They deleted about twenty-five percent of the text, thinking it not applicable, or too emotive, or beside the point.

Lena: You swoony bastard. I guess you’re really over me, huh? ;) Theo: Just texting you to tell you I deleted your number from Lena’s phone.

Fine. Fuck. I snooped around on Zach’s phone when he let me borrow it, found that pic you’d sent him, and sent it my way for, you know, later. I made sure to delete the sent text from Zach’s phone because he didn’t need to know what I was doing.” My stomach turns at the thought of Shep masturbating to a naked photo of me—hell, any photo of me—but I think what repulses me the most is that he’s Zach’s brother and he violated not only me, but him too.

We don’t know those bones but I know what it feels like to know a dead girl. Her text messages are in my phone. I don’t look at them but I keep them there. It seems fucked up to delete a dead girl’s texts. It seems pointless. She is already gone.

Before Liv did that Justen gives me a look after the beer was dump out over her head… yeah know- I can’t explain it- it’s silly- but it’s almost looked like a pity look like she felt bad for what she did to me, like she had to do it or something, but didn’t want to. It was not over Maddie dropped her jeans in pissed right on her face, and took a small dump on her chest- her goodies were visible to everyone, but that’s Maddie she’s crazy. All of the breath leaves my body in a rush, as Liv shoves tampons up her nose, and we all walk away. ‘Payback is a b*tch!’ I feel like I’ve been punched in the ovaries, and I was slogged in the stomach… by you gusset, it Ray. He still loves to get drunk, off all the humps, rumps, and lumps he had tonight. Saying- ‘What the hell are you guys doing to her? She didn’t do anything to you.’ I said- ‘Don’t even talk to me ass hole- you’re missed up!’ He said- ‘Fine, you’re a baby anyways. And he walked off all pissed.’ (He is the one to blame, isn’t he?) I said when he was walking off- ‘If she gets knocked up at ten by you not pulling out, I will kill you!’ I know this because she just started her period last month, and I had to be like her mom and explain everything, like always. My girls had my back… when he walked off. I think that is why he backed off. Oh yeah, without thinking, I chest bump them both as hard as I can, I felt like they saved me tonight. I am sure a fist bump would have worked but… you know. They showed they carried for me. That is when I see Rays' phone on the windowsill, like most boys he is all laying it down… I go throw it and see an ammeter video of him taking my sis on Marcel’s mom and dad's bed, I deleted it, before everyone sees it, online and on their phones. I am sure it’s been sent or is going to everyone that matters. I just hope I am not too late. And just like that, I see all the sexy texts and pics, so I drop it into a full cup of beer that someone left next to it on the sill. It’s bad enough she was popped and dropped like she doesn’t need that too, on top of it all. Jenny is squeezing Kenneth like she is frightened or uncomfortable by all, that is around her with all this drama. I see him- we lock eyes for a moment. I think he saw me doing it dropping the phone in. He was going out the door to aid Justen that was surely still passed out. I can’t exactly tell what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, it’s not good. I look away, feeling hot and uncomfortable. Like I should’ve done that.

There’s no official checklist, but here’s what we suggest: Take email off your phone. Take all social media off your phone, transfer it to a desktop, and schedule set times to check it each day or, ideally, each week. Disable your web browser. I’m a bit lenient on this one since I hate surfing the web on my phone and use this only when people send me links. But this is typically a key facet of a dumbphone. Delete all notifications, including those for texts. I set my phone so I have to (1) unlock it and (2) click on the text message box to (3) even see if I have any text messages. This was a game changer. Ditch news apps or at least news alerts. They are the devil. Delete every single app you don’t need or that doesn’t make your life seriously easier. And keep all the wonder apps that do make life so much easier—maps, calculator, Alaska Airlines, etc. What Knapp put in one box and labeled “The Future.” Consolidate said apps into a few simple boxes so your home screen is free and clear. Finally, set your phone to grayscale mode. This does something neurobiologically that I’m not smart enough to explain, something to do with decreasing dopamine addiction. Google

Anything you generate in this world, whether its text or images or videos, you need to have it backed up, for if it was important enough for you to spend the time making it, then it’s important enough for you to spend the time to make sure it doesn’t get accidentally deleted.

After a flight with heavy turbulence—so terrible that I was compelled to send a text to my best friend, Cami, telling her that if I died she’d need to delete all the books on my Kindle

How deeply fortunate my life, my every prayer heard by the angels. I asked for the earth; I received earth, like so much mud in the face. I prayed for relief from suffering: I received suffering. Who can say my prayers were not heard? They were translated, edited-and if certain of the important words were left out or misunderstood, a crucial article deleted, still they were taken in, studied like ancient texts.

go through and take out as many section breaks within chapters as I could, deleting the white space and other markings between them. (By section break, I mean the smaller divisions of text that sometimes exist within chapters, usually set off by a string of three asterisks or something similar.) Late in my revision, I found that many of these mid-chapter breaks, all of which had seemed so essential, had become unnecessary and that losing those interruptions let my chapters read as more continuous and seamless.

Please delete my number because I’m not going to settle for your maybes. I want concrete. I want definite. I want people who call when they say they will and show up when they plan to. I don’t want to spend my life waiting for and wasted on a person who can only love halfway. I do not want your texts, late at night that say, “I miss you” or “I’m sorry” or “I just need a little bit more time.” Please delete my number – because I’m deleting yours. And you can find someone new to text your maybes to.

If you have chronic romance fatigue, try abstinence. Delete your dating apps, stop texting your ex, stop flirting with strangers, give up sex. Make a promise to yourself to free up some space in your mind and schedule and see what life is like without it. Try a month. Try six. Try a year.

He created a “Top 50 Favorites” list of contacts on his phone. He prioritizes them when it comes to hanging out. When he has a free minute, he calls/texts the people on his Top 50 list. Then he told us, at the end of the year, he re-evaluates who should be on the list and shuffles/deletes/adds to it. It can only be 50 people, so every year, he makes the tough decisions as to who’s in his Top 50. People DID NOT LIKE THIS.

Whenever I erase text messages, I feel like I'm deleting evidence...

Margot’s off shopping for new boots with her friend Casey, Daddy’s at work, and Kitty and I are lazing about watching TV when my phone buzzes next to me. It’s a text from Peter. "Movie tonight?" I text back yes, exclamation point. Then I delete the exclamation point for sounding too eager. Though without the exclamation point, the yes seems completely unenthused. I settle on a smiley face and press send before I can obsess over it further.

Dauer figured Moonves was calling about a role for Phillips, which finally seemed to be happening. Dauer was watching his hometown baseball team, the Minnesota Twins, on TV when Moonves reached him. But Moonves wasn’t calling him with good news about Phillips. Instead, he was terse and sounded stressed. Moonves asked Dauer to delete all their text messages, adding that he was asking all his friends to do the same thing. (A spokesman for Moonves denied he asked him to delete messages.) Dauer wondered what that was all about. He hung up and went back to watching the game. He never deleted the messages.

I probably deleted them.” Emira cut into her enchiladas and tried to remember. “But yeah, he’d text me all these pictures and quotes that were like, Michael Jordan didn’t make his high school basketball team, and I

The option to “delete” data is largely an illusion—lost files, deleted e-mails and erased text messages can be recovered with minimal effort.

Texts get deleted and conversations fade, but I swear I’ll have every single letter you’ve ever written me until the day I die. #SnailMailForever

Bryna bit down on her lip, hard. Then, she deleted the text and promised not to look back.

Bookmarks To bookmark a web page, tap the Menu button and select Bookmark this Page. To delete a bookmark, tap the Menu button and select Bookmarks. Tap the Remove button at the bottom of the page, tap to select the checkbox next to the URL(s) you want to remove, and then tap the Remove button. Downloading files Some websites may have books or documents that you want to download and read on your Kindle. You will be asked to confirm if you want to download these items to your Kindle Home screen. Supported file types for download include Kindle content (.AZW, .AZW1, AZW2, and AZW3), unprotected Mobipocket books (.MOBI, .PRC), and text files (.TXT).

Fiscal Numbers (the latter uniquely identifies a particular hospitalization for patients who might have been admitted multiple times), which allowed us to merge information from many different hospital sources. The data were finally organized into a comprehensive relational database. More information on database merger, in particular, how database integrity was ensured, is available at the MIMIC-II web site [1]. The database user guide is also online [2]. An additional task was to convert the patient waveform data from Philips’ proprietary format into an open-source format. With assistance from the medical equipment vendor, the waveforms, trends, and alarms were translated into WFDB, an open data format that is used for publicly available databases on the National Institutes of Health-sponsored PhysioNet web site [3]. All data that were integrated into the MIMIC-II database were de-identified in compliance with Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act standards to facilitate public access to MIMIC-II. Deletion of protected health information from structured data sources was straightforward (e.g., database fields that provide the patient name, date of birth, etc.). We also removed protected health information from the discharge summaries, diagnostic reports, and the approximately 700,000 free-text nursing and respiratory notes in MIMIC-II using an automated algorithm that has been shown to have superior performance in comparison to clinicians in detecting protected health information [4]. This algorithm accommodates the broad spectrum of writing styles in our data set, including personal variations in syntax, abbreviations, and spelling. We have posted the algorithm in open-source form as a general tool to be used by others for de-identification of free-text notes [5].

I took your phone one night last week and put this number on your contacts under his name, he says, almost proudly. So when I text you, it looks like it’s from him. I’ve deleted the messages now, of course. And this is a pay-as-you-go phone, so it can’t be traced

She wasn’t this careful. Maybe Johnny had more to lose. Oh, she deleted texts from Micah eventually. But not right away. She needed to savor them first. But whatever Johnny was doing, he wasn’t sentimental about it, apparently.

The conflicting accounts provided by Bannon and Prince could not be independently clarified by reviewing their communications, because neither one was able to produce any of the messages they exchanged in the time period surrounding the Seychelles meeting. Prince’s phone contained no text messages prior to March 2017, though provider records indicate that he and Bannon exchanged dozens of messages.1094 Prince denied deleting any messages but claimed he did not know why there were no messages on his device before March 2017.1095 Bannon’s devices similarly contained no messages in the relevant time period, and Bannon also stated he did not know why messages did not appear on his device.1096

Nikki Kessinger, who had diligently deleted anything on her cell phone or computers that could link her to Chris Watts, now asked him to do the same. Late Tuesday afternoon, she began researching how long phone companies keep text messages and if the police could trace them.

So, you find yourself in a situation that no one wants to be in - suspecting your partner of cheating. It starts with little things - missed calls, secretive text messages, and sudden changes in behavior. The doubts start to creep in, and before you know it, you're knee-deep in suspicion. You can't help but wonder if there's something going on behind your back. Even though suspicions can be quite strong, you should never accuse someone without hard proof. Nobody wants to ruin a relationship over speculative thoughts, after all. That's why having proof becomes essential. You're looking for something concrete that will either allay your worries or validate your darkest suspicions. At that point, you begin searching for solutions to find the truth, and Daniel Meuli Web Recovery is one that immediately comes to mind. Daniel Meuli Web Recovery is a tool that can explore the digital world and reveal secrets that might be kept on your partner's phone, much like your own personal Sherlock Holmes. With the use of a variety of programs, you can access their call records, social media accounts, text messages, and even track their whereabouts without their knowledge. Daniel Meuli Web Recovery utilizes advanced technology and hacking techniques (legally, of course) to gain access to the target device. It's like having your very own digital wizard who can unlock the secrets of your partner's phone and reveal the truth. Whether it's recovering deleted messages or providing real-time monitoring, Daniel Meuli Web Recovery has the tools to expose what may be hidden behind the screen. Daniel Meuli Web Recovery employs a combination of advanced hacking techniques and specialized software to gain access to the target device. These methods are designed to be discreet and undetectable, ensuring that your partner remains unaware of any investigation taking place. The goal is to provide you with the evidence you seek without compromising your own security or privacy. While we cannot provide an exact step-by-step guide for using Daniel Meuli Web Recovery (and neither should you trust any article that does), their process generally involves installing the necessary software or utilizing remote access methods to gain entry into the target device. From there, they can retrieve the desired information, such as text messages, call logs, and social media activity, and present it to you as evidence. Remember, discretion is key throughout this process, and it's important to handle the obtained evidence with care. What you choose to do with the information is ultimately up to you, but it's advisable to seek professional advice or have an open and honest conversation with your partner before jumping to conclusions. Email Daniel Meuli web recovery on: EMAIL. Danielmeuliweberecovery(At) email (dot) com WHATSAPP +1 (945) 246‑4992 My greetings.

commands for deleting a block of text and placing it elsewhere in a file are called “cut” and “paste”—because Ginn’s editors, the first non-engineers ever to use such a system, were thinking about the scissors and paste pots they used to rearrange manuscripts on paper.

As I turn on my computer: Come to Me, I want to connect with you. As I make a phone call to talk through my stress with a friend: Call on Me! As I scroll through Facebook: Don’t follow them, follow Me. As I open up Instagram: Come to Me, open up to Me. As I binge watch another late-night TV show: Come. To. Me. As I start a text, complaining to a friend about my day: Delete that; don’t complain to her, come to Me. As I link over to Amazon Prime for a little retail therapy: Come to Me, I’m a Wonderful Counselor. As I run in to Starbucks for something sweet: My words are sweet as honey. Come to me. As I turn to comfort food: Come to Me, I’m the Great Comforter.

which a drawing imported into a text document can no longer be altered, but must be changed in the original graphics program and reintroduced into the text document.) Out of the box the Star was multilingual, offering typefaces and keyboard configurations that could be implemented in the blink of an eye for writing in Russian, French, Spanish, and Swedish through the use of “virtual keyboards”—graphic representations of keyboards that appeared on screen to show the user where to find the unique characters in whatever language he or she was using. In 1982 an internal library of 6,000 Japanese kanji characters was added; eventually Star users were able to draft documents in almost every modern language, from Arabic and Bengali to Amharic and Cambodian. As the term implied, the user’s view of the screen resembled the surface of a desk. Thumbnail-sized icons representing documents were lined up on one side of the screen and those representing peripheral devices—printers, file servers, e-mail boxes—on the other. The display image could be infinitely personalized to be tidy or cluttered, obsessively organized or hopelessly confused, alphabetized or random, as dictated by the user’s personality and taste. The icons themselves had been painstakingly drafted and redrafted so they would be instantaneously recognized by the user as document pages (with a distinctive dog-eared upper right corner), file folders, in and out baskets, a clock, and a wastebasket. Thanks to the system’s object-oriented software, the Star’s user could launch any application simply by clicking on the pertinent icon; the machine automatically “knew” that a text document required it to launch a text editor or a drawing to launch a graphics program. No system has ever equaled the consistency of the Star’s set of generic commands, in which “move,” “copy,” and “delete” performed similar operations across the entire spectrum of software applications. The Star was the epitome of PARC’s user-friendly machine. No secretary had to learn about programming or code to use the machine, any more than she had to understand the servomechanism driving the dancing golf ball to type on an IBM Selectric typewriter. Changing a font, or a margin, or the space between typed lines in most cases required a keystroke or two or a couple of intuitive mouse clicks. The user understood what was happening entirely from watching the icons or documents move or change on the screen. This was no accident: “When everything in a computer system is visible on the screen,” wrote David Smith, a designer of the Star interface, “the display becomes reality. Objects and actions can be understood purely in terms of their effects on the display.