Enterprise Star Trek Quotes

For most people, religion is nothing more than a substitute for a malfunctioning brain. If people need religion, ignore them and maybe they will ignore you, and you can go on with your life. It wasn't until I was beginning to do Star Trek that the subject of religion arose. What brought it up was that people were saying that I would have a chaplain on board the Enterprise. I replied, "No, we don't.

I handed them a script and they turned it down. It was too controversial. It talked about concepts like, 'Who is God?' The Enterprise meets God in space; God is a life form, and I wanted to suggest that there may have been, at one time in the human beginning, an alien entity that early man believed was God, and kept those legends. But I also wanted to suggest that it might have been as much the Devil as it was God. After all, what kind of god would throw humans out of Paradise for eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. One of the Vulcans on board, in a very logical way, says, 'If this is your God, he's not very impressive. He's got so many psychological problems; he's so insecure. He demands worship every seven days. He goes out and creates faulty humans and then blames them for his own mistakes. He's a pretty poor excuse for a supreme being.

As an adult, getting paid thousands of dollars a week to say, “Aye, Sir. Course laid in” is a seriously sweet gig, but when I was a teenager, it sucked.

There's a difference between keeping an open mind and believing something because you want it to be true.

TO:rosencrantzpinchard@gmai.com: Something's wrong! The house is shaking! TO:rosencrantzpinchard@gmail.com: Well can you turn down the volume on Star Trek:Voyager? I thought we were having an earthquake when the Enterprise hit Warp speed. Why did you let me sleep until nearly one?

We must question the story logic of having an all-knowing, all-powerful God, who creates faulty humans and then blames them for his own mistakes."--Gene Rodenberry

Captain James Kirk was named after Captain James Cook and the USS Enterprise was named after the HMS Endeavour. Star Trek’s catchphrase “to boldly go where no man has gone before” was inspired by Cook’s journal entry “ambition leads me … farther than any other man has been before me”. Enterprise and Endeavour, the first and last space shuttles, were named after the ships of Kirk and Cook. There are bound to be other links between Captain Cook, Star Trek and the US Space Program and some Australian university will no doubt award a grant to explore this issue of undisputed national significance.

I for one refuse to believe that an enterprise so well conceived, so scrupulously produced, and so widely loved can stay boneyarded for long. And I have 1,898 letters from people who don't believe it either.

This time let's make sure history never forgets The name ENTERPRISE!

I read a report from Starfleet Command last year that said you’d met the Greek deity Apollo. I was just wondering . . . did that really happen?” Kirk glanced at someone off-screen, then his mouth curled upward with playful mischief. “I prefer to think that Apollo met me. . . . Enterprise out.

Star Trek? Oh, I did my homework. TOS, TNG, DS9. Even Voyager and Enterprise. I watched them all in chronological order. The movies, too. Phasers locked on target.

Battlefields are unpredictable places – even under a flag of truce.

Still, I knew from that first moment that my tour on the Enterprise was going to be something special.” He shrugged. “The name carries that level of expectation, you know?

life is about living, not just surviving. Nobody gets out of it alive in the end, so we just have to make the most of the time we get.

Live long, and prosper.

Isn’t antimatter what fuels the U.S.S. Enterprise?

If Captain Jean-Luc Picard asked you to serve him aboard the starship Enterprise, you'd likely be happy to. You would recognise him as a great leader and a good man, and so you wouldn't have any problem following his orders. This is basically the relationship God wants with us - not slaves, not pets, not possessions, we would be co-workers and friends.

I sympathize with the guys who went to go see The Phantom Menace and convinced themselves that it wasn’t as bad as it was. Phantom Menace is worse, I would argue, than Star Trek ever was, but we were kind of in denial. There were some beautiful shots of the Enterprise and we got to see some Klingons, so it wasn’t a total disaster, but in large part it was pretty boring.

I am embarrassed to admit (don’t tell anybody) that when I first saw the interior doors on the Enterprise slide open automatically as crew members walk up to them, I was certain that such a mechanism would not be invented during my years on Earth. Star Trek was taking place hundreds of years hence, and I was observing future technology. Same goes for those incredible pocket-size data disks they insert into talking computers. And those palm-size devices they use to talk to one another. And that square cavity in the wall that dispenses heated food in seconds. Not in my century, I thought. Not in my lifetime. Today, obviously, we have all those technologies, and we didn’t have to wait till the twenty-third century to get them. But I take pleasure in noting that our twenty-first-century communication and data-storage devices are smaller than those on Star Trek. And unlike their sliding doors, which make primitive whooshing sounds every time they move, our automatic doors are silent.

As I soon learned, this was the dream to which Gene had alluded so often in the past. Interestingly, though he’d said many times before that there might be something in this for me, that day I won a part that had yet to be created. It was only after I’d been brought on board, and Gene and I conceived and created her, that Uhura was born. Many times through the years I’ve referred to Uhura as my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter of the twenty-third century. Gene and I agreed that she would be a citizen of the United States of Africa. And her name, Uhura, is derived from Uhuru, which is Swahili for “freedom.” According to the “biography” Gene and I developed for my character, Uhura was far more than an intergalactic telephone operator. As head of Communications, she commanded a corps of largely unseen communications technicians, linguists, and other specialists who worked in the bowels of the Enterprise, in the “comm-center.” A linguistics scholar and a top graduate of Starfleet Academy, she was a protégée of Mr. Spock, whom she admired for his daring, his intelligence, his stoicism, and especially his logic. We even had outlined exactly where Uhura had grown up, who her parents were, and why she had been chosen over other candidates for the Enterprise’s five-year mission.

Finally there would be total unity within the Federation, the first step toward people’s being at home on any planet instead of only one. The principle from the old United States, basically; it didn’t matter if you were raised in Vermont and lived in California. You were still home, still American. If your name was Baird or Yamamura or Kwame, you weren’t necessarily loyal to Scotland, Japan, or Ghana, but to America. A few decades of space travel, and the statement became “I’m a citizen of Earth,” and no matter the country. This ship was that kind of first step. Whether born on Earth or Epsillon Indii VI, you were a citizen of the Federation. The children on this colony Enterprise would visit the planets of the Federation and feel part of each, welcome upon all. This starship was the greatest, most visionary melting pot of all, this spacegoing colony. Unique. Hopeful. Risky.

Este enigma fue explorado en la película Star Trek: la próxima generación, en la que se encuentra una cápsula del siglo XX flotando en el espacio exterior. Dentro de la cápsula se encuentran los cuerpos de personas que sufrieron enfermedades que eran incurables en aquellos tiempos primitivos, y fueron congeladas con la esperanza de poder revivir en el futuro. Los médicos de la nave espacial Enterprise curan rápidamente a esos individuos de sus enfermedades y les hacen revivir. Esas personas afortunadas se sorprenden al ver que su aventura ha valido la pena, pero una de ellas es un astuto capitalista. Lo primero que pregunta es: «¿En qué siglo estamos?». Al saber que ha vuelto a la vida en el siglo XXIV, se da cuenta rápidamente de que sus inversiones, después de tanto tiempo, han de valer una fortuna. Pide de inmediato ponerse en contacto con su banquero en la Tierra, pero la tripulación del Enterprise está desconcertada. ¿Dinero? ¿Inversiones? Eso no existe en el futuro. En el siglo XXIV basta con pedir una cosa para que nos la den al momento.

The last refuge of the Self, perhaps, is “physical continuity.” Despite the body’s mercurial nature, it feels like a badge of identity we have carried since the time of our earliest childhood memories. A thought experiment dreamed up in the 1980s by British philosopher Derek Parfit illustrates how important—yet deceiving—this sense of physical continuity is to us.15 He invites us to imagine a future in which the limitations of conventional space travel—of transporting the frail human body to another planet at relatively slow speeds—have been solved by beaming radio waves encoding all the data needed to assemble the passenger to their chosen destination. You step into a machine resembling a photo booth, called a teletransporter, which logs every atom in your body then sends the information at the speed of light to a replicator on Mars, say. This rebuilds your body atom by atom using local stocks of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and so on. Unfortunately, the high energies needed to scan your body with the required precision vaporize it—but that’s okay because the replicator on Mars faithfully reproduces the structure of your brain nerve by nerve, synapse by synapse. You step into the teletransporter, press the green button, and an instant later materialize on Mars and can continue your existence where you left off. The person who steps out of the machine at the other end not only looks just like you, but etched into his or her brain are all your personality traits and memories, right down to the memory of eating breakfast that morning and your last thought before you pressed the green button. If you are a fan of Star Trek, you may be perfectly happy to use this new mode of space travel, since this is more or less what the USS Enterprise’s transporter does when it beams its crew down to alien planets and back up again. But now Parfit asks us to imagine that a few years after you first use the teletransporter comes the announcement that it has been upgraded in such a way that your original body can be scanned without destroying it. You decide to give it a go. You pay the fare, step into the booth, and press the button. Nothing seems to happen, apart from a slight tingling sensation, but you wait patiently and sure enough, forty-five minutes later, an image of your new self pops up on the video link and you spend the next few minutes having a surreal conversation with yourself on Mars. Then comes some bad news. A technician cheerfully informs you that there have been some teething problems with the upgraded teletransporter. The scanning process has irreparably damaged your internal organs, so whereas your replica on Mars is absolutely fine and will carry on your life where you left off, this body here on Earth will die within a few hours. Would you care to accompany her to the mortuary? Now how do you feel? There is no difference in outcome between this scenario and what happened in the old scanner—there will still be one surviving “you”—but now it somehow feels as though it’s the real you facing the horror of imminent annihilation. Parfit nevertheless uses this thought experiment to argue that the only criterion that can rationally be used to judge whether a person has survived is not the physical continuity of a body but “psychological continuity”—having the same memories and personality traits as the most recent version of yourself. Buddhists

T’Pol.” Archer made his voice sting with command. “You’re coming dangerously close to violating a rule of the bridge. Don’t nag the captain.

Nobody played poker with Mike Walsh--at least, not twice--but people fought to get aboard Constellation. Her command record since Mike took her was almost the equal of Enterprise's for danger, daring, and success not only snatched from the jaws of failure, but afterward used to beat failure over the head.

There can’t be true freedom for anybody . . . unless they have freedom from fear. Unless they know their right to live, to choose, to love, and to hold on to their possessions won’t be taken from them by force, whether by a government or by other people. In any free system, there have to be some basic standards of behavior that everyone agrees to abide by, some basic protection for their lives and their rights—and they have to agree to empower somebody with the authority to enforce those standards if anyone violates that social contract. It’s not enough just to trust the marketplace to balance everything out. You can see that isn’t working.

It’s hard to explain how important Star Trek is to me. I think I went to my first Star Trek convention when I was fifteen. So to hear that Leonard Nimoy—Mr. Spock—was on the phone, I was not processing what he was saying. I could only focus on his amazing voice. I thought this was a phone call to see if he’d agree to do the part, but in his mind, he had already agreed to do it! He had one specific note on the script, which is that Mr. Spock doesn’t use contractions when he speaks. He says “cannot;” he doesn’t say “can’t.” And I remember just being chagrined that I hadn’t intervened and had allowed this to go on. I loved Spock so much, I used to sneak lines of Mr. Spock dialogue from the movies and TV shows into Big Bang Theory and give them to Sheldon. There’s an episode early on where Sheldon and Leonard are having a fight, and Penny asks, “Well, how do you feel?” And Sheldon replies, “I don’t understand the question.” That’s from the beginning of Star Trek IV where Spock has reunited with his mind and his body, and is being quizzed by a computer about his status. So Leonard Nimoy was just one of many fanboy moments. I once said to LeVar Burton, “If I could go back in time and tell my teenage self there would be a day where I would eventually talk to three crew members of the USS Enterprise, I’d fall over and die.

So how do you preserve such freedom,” Zehron countered, “if the state itself coerces the people to follow its rules?

Rather,” Soval replied, “the people mutually consent to abide by those rules for their own collective benefit. They ensure their own safety and liberty by agreeing to respect others’ safety and liberty—even when that requires making compromises. Absolute, unfettered freedom is only possible for one who lives absolutely alone. When one is part of a community, one must balance one’s own freedoms and rights with those of others.

There are constraints on freedom, but only to the extent that different individuals’ freedoms come into conflict. It is the responsibility of the state to moderate those conflicts equitably.

Or, as a famous human jurist once said, ‘The right to swing my fist ends where the other man’s nose begins,’ ” Archer added.

But traveling faster than light would require infinite energy; it is possible on paper, not in practice. More recently, physicists have theorized other ways that physical travel into the past could be achieved, but they are still exotic and expensive. A technological civilization thousands or more years in advance of our own, one able to harness the energy of its whole galaxy, could create a wormhole linking different points in the fabric of spacetime and send a spaceship through it.8 It is an idea explored widely in science fiction and depicted vividly in Christopher Nolan’s 2014 film Interstellar. But all this is academic for our purposes. For Gleick, what we are really talking about with time travel is a thought experiment about the experiencer—the passenger—in a novel, disjointed relationship to the external world. We can readily perform feats of “mental time travel,” or at least simulate such feats, as well as experience a dissociation between our internal subjective sense of time and the flux of things around us and even our own bodies.9 According to Gleick, part of what suddenly facilitated four-dimensional thinking in both popular writing and the sciences was the changing experience of time in an accelerating society. The Victorian age, with its steam engines and bewildering pace of urban living, increased these experiences of dissociation, and they have only intensified since then. Time travel, Gleick argues, is basically just a metaphor for modernity, and a nifty premise upon which to base literary and cinematic fantasies that repair modernity’s traumas. It also shines a light on how confused we all are about time. The most commonly voiced objection to time travel—and with it, precognition—is that any interaction between the future and past would change the past, and thus create a different future. The familiar term is the grandfather paradox: You can’t go back in time and kill your grandfather because then you wouldn’t have been born to go back in time and kill your grandfather (leaving aside for the moment the assumed inevitability of wanting to kill your grandfather, which is an odd assumption). The technical term for meddling in the past this way is “bilking,” on the analogy of failing to pay a promised debt.10 Whatever you call it, it is the kind of thing that, in Star Trek, would make the Enterprise’s computer start to stutter and smoke and go haywire—the same reaction, in fact, that greets scientific claims of precognition. (As Dean Radin puts it, laboratory precognition results like those cited in the past two chapters “cause faces to turn red and sputtering noises to be issued from upset lips.”11) Information somehow sent backward in time from an event cannot lead to a future that no longer includes that event—and we naturally intuit that it would be very hard not to have such an effect if we meddled in the timeline. Our very presence in the past would change things.

Exactly,” T’Pol said. “Surak wrote of this in the Kir’Shara. ‘Aggression in the name of defense provokes its own reflection.’ Employing intimidation as a means to subdue an enemy usually backfires, making them more aggressive rather than less.

Are we solving a problem, or manufacturing a problem to fit our solution?

My mother had a consulting job on Hafjian,” Sulu said. “We had an antigrav generator just big enough for our living quarters, but when we went out we used Leiber exoskeletons.” Just the name brought back memories of how it felt to wear the harness for hours and sometimes days on end. The alloy frame helped support and propel the unadapted human body in high gravity. The exoskeleton served its purpose, but at the points of highest stress it always caused abrasion. And of course it did not prevent gravity from affecting the circulatory system.

The first video game based on a movie or television series is probably Mike Mayfield’s 1971 text-only game Star Trek, a strategy game about commanding the USS Enterprise against the Klingons. But Mayfield created the game as a hobbyist on a Sigma 7 minicomputer, a device that required as much space as several refrigerators. It hardly seemed to be at risk of becoming a commercial product.

Aggression in the name of defense provokes its own reflection.’ Employing intimidation as a means to subdue an enemy usually backfires, making them more aggressive rather than less.

Movies lost their appeal when people realized their real lives were more interesting.

Consider Mr. Spock of Star Trek, a naive archetype of rationality. Spock’s emotional state is always set to “calm,” even when wildly inappropriate. He often gives many significant digits for probabilities that are grossly uncalibrated. (E.g., “Captain, if you steer the Enterprise directly into that black hole, our probability of surviving is only 2.234%.” Yet nine times out of ten the Enterprise is not destroyed.

those roots were made for walking. And that’s not all they do.

Wesley reached out across the infinite, and he found— —Enterprise.

Captain, someone is stealing the Enterprise.

A life without truth is illogical. Surak wrote that the truth is simply the actual state of the universe. To live at odds with the truth is to be in conflict with reality itself. Such an existence is unsustainable.

Maybe when you can comfortably wear a velour shirt without a space helmet while smoothly riding into orbit, the various space agencies of the world will consider the name Enterprise for a real spacecraft. It’s as though in holding off in naming another spaceship Enterprise, the people of Earth feel, somehow, we haven’t quite earned it yet.

The past anchors us, cousin. It gives us a place to stand. You can’t hide from it because it hurts. That pain tells you who you are. It demands recognition.

He smiled more warmly and clasped her hand. “Kirk,” he said. “Samuel Abraham Kirk.

The only thing our choices can affect or change is the future. So it seems to me that the future is where our attention can be most usefully directed.

Sometimes, Thanien, you simply have to stop letting the past define your life and live for the future instead.

Our dead deserve to be honored, Phlox.” “But do we really honor them by using them as an excuse to add to their numbers?

Tomorrow Was Yesterday” dealt with the discovery by the Enterprise of a giant “universe” or “generation” ship—that is, a slower-than-light spaceship that would take generations to reach its destination because they lacked the power to traverse the vast distances between the stars any faster. The Voyager was a colony ship that had been launched from Earth hundreds of years previously, but only now were Federation ships catching up to it, the Enterprise being the first. Unfortunately, after hundreds of years, the people inside had forgotten that they were aboard a spaceship—instead they believed their enclosed world to be the totality of existence. Part of the reason for this stemmed from a mutiny in their long forgotten past, a mutiny that had left the Voyager’s population divided into two armed camps. The elite were descendants of the well educated, and they had a high standard of living in their part of the ship. The downtrodden oppressed were descendants of the mutineers. Now, the Voyager was a giant sphere, or cylinder. Artificial gravity was provided by spinning the ship to create centrifugal force; therefore, from a shipside point of view, down was outward, up was toward the center. The upper levels in the center of the ship were where the control room was located

Captain’s log, Stardate 9529.1. This is the final cruise of the Starship Enterprise under my command. This ship and her history will shortly become the care of another crew. To them and their posterity will we commit our future. They will continue the voyages we have begun and journey to all the undiscovered countries, boldly going where no man … where no one has gone before.” Captain James Kirk Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

Kirk pressed the Call key again. “Speaking of language, Bones, what was that about ‘novelty’” “Oh … well, Jim, I was just making an observation about the large number of women in Starfleet who turn out to be your old acquaintances.” “Aw, Bones …” “It’s almost as amazing as the number of those old flames who wind up on board the Enterprise.” “… what can I say?” The lift arrived. As they entered, Spock said, “Dr. McCoy has a valid statistical point—

It is not possible to translate a language that does not exist.

Possible futures. In our lifetime, we probably won’t ever get beamed up like the Enterprise crew of Star Trek. But it’s certainly thrilling to think about. We know that the rate of change in technology progresses exponentially: it took humans 2,000 years to get from horse-drawn chariots to self-driving Google cars, but only 20 years to advance from landlines to iPhones.

There had been nothing like this lounge on the Enterprise, nearly a century gone, that M’Ress had served on. If one wanted to go and knock back drinks, one visited with Dr. McCoy or (M’Ress’s preference) Montgomery Scott. Private parties would be staged and good times were had by all.

Espaço: a fronteira final. Estas são as viagens da nave estelar Enterprise. Em sua missão de cinco anos... para explorar novos mundos... para pesquisar novas vidas... novas civilizações... audaciosamente indo onde nenhum homem jamais esteve”.

Gene was working on a new show called Star Trek. On a napkin, he drew for Alton, wide-eyed, a picture of the starship called Enterprise.