Friction Science Quotes

When I was little, I had this science book. There was a section on 'What would happen to the world if there was no friction?' Answer: 'Everything on earth would fly into space from the centrifugal force of revolution.' That was my mood.

Natural selection is not the wind which propels the vessel, but the rudder which, by friction, now on this side and now on that, shapes the course.

He looks like a Miltonian angel falling with wrath and glory. His exoskeleton sheds its friction armor, as Lucifer might have shed the fetters of heaven, feathers of flame peeling off, fluttering behind. Then a missile slashes the sky and high-grade explosives christen him mortal once again.

Think of a ball of steel as large as the world, and a fly alighting on it once every million years. When the ball of steel is rubbed away by the friction, eternity will not even have begun.

Space is like liquid/water, but space has no friction. Water has a density. The planets have a density. The galaxies are like different vortexes and the gravitational pull is caused by the pull of the vortex. The vortex spins faster in the center and slower on the top/outside. So that's why gravitational pull is different on other planets/moons Density dictates where you fall in the galaxy/vortex and there are many vortexes throughout the universe. Theory.

When I was little, I had this science book. There was a section on “What would happen to the world if there was no friction?” Answer: “Everything on earth would fly into space from the centrifugal force of revolution.” That was my mood.

When I was little, I had this science book. There was a section on "What would happen to the world if there was no friction?" Answer : "Everything on earth would fly into space from the centrifugal force of revolution." That was my mood.

If intelligent beings are going to get along together without too much friction, it’s important to realise that other members of your species have an internal mental universe, which controls their actions in the same way that your own mind controls yours.

As long as participation in knowledge does not embrace everyone, pure science will remain indifferent to struggle and degradation, while applied science will contribute to destruction either directly by the invention of weapons, or indirectly by endowing things like consumer goods with a seductive appearance, thus fostering friction among people.

To date we know only two real media that offer almost no resistance to moving bodies. One such medium was discovered in the 1930s: If we cool down helium, a noble gas, to temperatures close to absolute zero, it will flow through the thinnest of tubes with almost no friction. This phenomenon is called superfluidity. Another substance that shows superfluidity is a rare isotope of the same element, called helium-3. It takes experience to explore all the facets nature offers us. No form of logic can replace it.

Moreover, each culture and each person tends to think in terms of “time horizons.” Some of us think only of the immediate—the now. Politicians, for example, are often criticized for seeking only immediate, short-term results. Their time horizon is said to be influenced by the date of the next election. Others among us plan for the long term. These differing time horizons are an overlooked source of social and political friction—perhaps among the most important. But despite the growing recognition that cultural conceptions of time differ, the social sciences have developed little in the way of a coherent theory of time.

As you know, there was a famous quarrel between Max Planck and Einstein, in which Einstein claimed that, on paper, the human mind was capable of inventing mathematical models of reality. In this he generalized his own experience because that is what he did. Einstein conceived his theories more or less completely on paper, and experimental developments in physics proved that his models explained phenomena very well. So Einstein says that the fact that a model constructed by the human mind in an introverted situation fits with outer facts is just a miracle and must be taken as such. Planck does not agree, but thinks that we conceive a model which we check by experiment, after which we revise our model, so that there is a kind of dialectic friction between experiment and model by which we slowly arrive at an explanatory fact compounded of the two. Plato-Aristotle in a new form! But both have forgotten something- the unconscious. We know something more than those two men, namely that when Einstein makes a new model of reality he is helped by his unconscious, without which he would not have arrived at his theories...But what role DOES the unconscious play?...either the unconscious knows about other realities, or what we call the unconscious is a part of the same thing as outer reality, for we do not know how the unconscious is linked with matter.

It is hard to feel affection for something as totally impersonal as the atmosphere, and yet there it is, as much a part and product of life as wine and bread. Taken all in al, the sky is a miraculous achievement. It works, and for what it is designed to accomplish it is as infallible as anything in nature. I doubt whether any of us could think of a way to improve on it, beyond maybe shifting a local cloud from here to there on occasion. The word 'chance' does not serve to account well for structures of such magnificence... We should credit it for what it is: for sheer size and perfection of function, it is far and away the grandest product of collaboration in all of nature. It breathes for us, and it does another thing for our pleasure. Each day, millions of meteorites fall against the outer limits of the membrane and are burned to nothing by the friction. Without this shelter, our surface would long since have become the pounded powder of the moon. Even though our receptors are not sensitive enough to hear it, there is comfort in knowing the sound is there overhead, like the random noise of rain on the roof at night.

Often interfaces are assumed to be synonymous with media itself. But what would it mean to say that “interface” and “media” are two names for the same thing? The answer is found in the remediation or layer model of media, broached already in the introduction, wherein media are essentially nothing but formal containers housing other pieces of media. This is a claim most clearly elaborated on the opening pages of Marshall McLuhan’s Understanding Media. McLuhan liked to articulate this claim in terms of media history: a new medium is invented, and as such its role is as a container for a previous media format. So, film is invented at the tail end of the nineteenth century as a container for photography, music, and various theatrical formats like vaudeville. What is video but a container for film. What is the Web but a container for text, image, video clips, and so on. Like the layers of an onion, one format encircles another, and it is media all the way down. This definition is well-established today, and it is a very short leap from there to the idea of interface, for the interface becomes the point of transition between different mediatic layers within any nested system. The interface is an “agitation” or generative friction between different formats. In computer science, this happens very literally; an “interface” is the name given to the way in which one glob of code can interact with another. Since any given format finds its identity merely in the fact that it is a container for another format, the concept of interface and medium quickly collapse into one and the same thing.

Many models are constructed to account for regularly observed phenomena. By design, their direct implications are consistent with reality. But others are built up from first principles, using the profession’s preferred building blocks. They may be mathematically elegant and match up well with the prevailing modeling conventions of the day. However, this does not make them necessarily more useful, especially when their conclusions have a tenuous relationship with reality. Macroeconomists have been particularly prone to this problem. In recent decades they have put considerable effort into developing macro models that require sophisticated mathematical tools, populated by fully rational, infinitely lived individuals solving complicated dynamic optimization problems under uncertainty. These are models that are “microfounded,” in the profession’s parlance: The macro-level implications are derived from the behavior of individuals, rather than simply postulated. This is a good thing, in principle. For example, aggregate saving behavior derives from the optimization problem in which a representative consumer maximizes his consumption while adhering to a lifetime (intertemporal) budget constraint.† Keynesian models, by contrast, take a shortcut, assuming a fixed relationship between saving and national income. However, these models shed limited light on the classical questions of macroeconomics: Why are there economic booms and recessions? What generates unemployment? What roles can fiscal and monetary policy play in stabilizing the economy? In trying to render their models tractable, economists neglected many important aspects of the real world. In particular, they assumed away imperfections and frictions in markets for labor, capital, and goods. The ups and downs of the economy were ascribed to exogenous and vague “shocks” to technology and consumer preferences. The unemployed weren’t looking for jobs they couldn’t find; they represented a worker’s optimal trade-off between leisure and labor. Perhaps unsurprisingly, these models were poor forecasters of major macroeconomic variables such as inflation and growth.8 As long as the economy hummed along at a steady clip and unemployment was low, these shortcomings were not particularly evident. But their failures become more apparent and costly in the aftermath of the financial crisis of 2008–9. These newfangled models simply could not explain the magnitude and duration of the recession that followed. They needed, at the very least, to incorporate more realism about financial-market imperfections. Traditional Keynesian models, despite their lack of microfoundations, could explain how economies can get stuck with high unemployment and seemed more relevant than ever. Yet the advocates of the new models were reluctant to give up on them—not because these models did a better job of tracking reality, but because they were what models were supposed to look like. Their modeling strategy trumped the realism of conclusions. Economists’ attachment to particular modeling conventions—rational, forward-looking individuals, well-functioning markets, and so on—often leads them to overlook obvious conflicts with the world around them.

One of the chief goals of design ought to be protecting people from unnecessary tension, friction, and mental labor.

Ahh, it’s true. Secret rocker. So, is the science teacher just a facade? Kinda like the real Peter Parker? Do you secretly save the world on your off time?” I’m smiling at him, enjoying the banter. His frame seems so much bigger, being in the small space. He’s not saying anything, so I go on. “Did I just bust you out? You gonna have to keep me quiet now?” I laugh. But he doesn’t. He leans over and wraps his strong hand around my neck, bringing our faces close, our lips pressing together. I can’t remember the last time I ever made out in a car, if that’s what we’re doing. The old-school French kissing outside the parent’s house until the lights go on and we have to break apart. But this time, I’m an adult and no one’s going to stop us. Not sure what comes over me, but I lean forward, letting him know I want more. His response is just want I want as he pulls my body over the center console to his side, my legs now straddling him. My body is on fire, being in this position. I shamelessly grind forward, loving the friction the hardness between his legs brushing against my covered clit causes. His grip around my ass tightens and he growls into my mouth. Our kiss becomes brutal, my hands working their way up his tight chest, up his neck and into his thick, dark hair. I grip handfuls into my fists and, as I cock my head to the side for a deeper kiss, I accidently knock his glasses off. “Shit, sorry,” I moan into his mouth. He doesn’t skip a beat, grabbing my ass cheeks tighter and grinding what feels like a gigantic sized monster against my sex. This is not how I saw this going, but man, am I glad. His mouth, his strong hands, his hard cock, everything has become a pleasant surprise. The sound of Axl Rose singing in the background while we kiss and grind, our teeth scraping, our tongues dancing around one another, while our hands explore, squeezing, pulling and pinching. It’s almost becoming too much and the buildup is going to cause me to orgasm. I should stop this; this is immature what we’re doing. Dry humping in a car, god, what’s wrong with us? His grip is strong and intense, pushing, pulling, as our bodies move.

Amid all this, I read Good Habits, Bad Habits: The Science of Making Positive Changes That Stick, a fascinating book by Wendy Wood, a psychology professor at the University of Southern California, who argues that habits change when they’re harder to practice. Addiction isn’t about rational decisions, she wrote. If it were, Americans would have quit smoking soon after 1964, when the US Surgeon General issued his first report on its risks. American nicotine addicts kept smoking, knowing they were killing themselves, because nicotine had changed their brain chemistry, and cigarettes were everywhere. We stopped smoking, Wood argues, by making it harder to do—adding “friction” to the activity. In other words, we limited access to supply. We removed cigarette vending machines, banned smoking in airports, planes, parks, beaches, bars, restaurants, and offices. By adding friction to smoking, we also removed the brain cues that prompted us to smoke: bars where booze, friends, and cigarettes went together, for example.

Way back in the twentieth century leaders of Singapore and Japan, and then Great China, pondered non-Western ways to manage a complex modern society. Finding the occidental enlightenment far too brash and unpredictable, they cleverly designed methods to incorporate technology and science—along with limited aspects of capitalism and democracy—into a social order that also remained traditional and essentially pyramidal, without the chaos, friction, and unpredictability found in America or Europe. Much of their inspiration came from Asian history, which had much longer stretches of stable and noble governance than the West.

The science of lubrication, friction and wear is called tribology and is a branch of mechanical engineering. Tribologists are employed by lubricant companies, bearing manufacturers, vehicle brake manufacturers and just about anywhere you can expect to solve a problem of friction and wear. Tribologists agree that the best lubricant for roller chains is viscous oil, not wax, graphite, or silicone. Yet, you’ll often find a new chain lubricant on the market that promises an improvement (they never say over what) and that chains will not suffer the same side effects as when lubricated with oil. Approach these products with sceptical caution. If the manufacturer uses words like “dry”, “wax”, and/or ”clean”, it is probably not a quality chain lubricant. Its sole redeeming feature may be that it doesn’t turn black with use, itself a sign of poor lubrication. We’ll discuss discolouration of the oil in due course.

From this basis, Boyd sets out to develop a normative view on a design for command and control. As in Patterns of Conflict, he starts with some ‘samples from historical environment’, offering nine citations from nine practitioners, including from himself (see Box 6.1):6 Sun Tzu (around 400 BC) Probe enemy strength to unmask his strengths, weaknesses, patterns of movement and intentions. Shape enemy’s perception of world to manipulate/undermine his plans and actions. Employ Cheng/Ch’I maneuvers to quickly and unexpectedly hurl strength against weaknesses. Bourcet (1764–71) A plan ought to have several branches . . . One should . . . mislead the enemy and make him imagine that the main effort is coming at some other part. And . . . one must be ready to profit by a second or third branch of the plan without giving one’s enemy time to consider it. Napoleon (early 1800s) Strategy is the art of making use of time and space. I am less chary of the latter than the former. Space we can recover, time never. I may lose a battle, but I shall never lose a minute. The whole art of war consists in a well-reasoned and circumspect defensive, followed by rapid and audacious attack. Clausewitz (1832) Friction (which includes the interaction of many factors, such as uncertainty, psychological/moral forces and effects, etc.) impedes activity. Friction is the only concept that more or less corresponds to the factors that distinguish real war from war on paper. In this sense, friction represents the climate or atmosphere of war. Jomini (1836) By free and rapid movements carry bulk of the forces (successively) against fractions of the enemy. N.B. Forrest (1860s) Git thar the fustest with the mostest. Blumentritt (1947) The entire operational and tactical leadership method hinged upon . . . rapid concise assessment of situations, . . . and quick decision and quick execution, on the principle: each minute ahead of the enemy is an advantage. Balck (1980) Emphasis upon creation of implicit connections or bonds based upon trust, not mistrust, that permit wide freedom for subordinates to exercise imagination and initiative – yet harmonize within intent of superior commanders. Benefit: internal simplicity that permits rapid adaptability. Yours truly Operate inside adversary’s observation-orientation-decision-action loops to enmesh adversary in a world of uncertainty, doubt, mistrust, confusion, disorder, fear, panic, chaos . . . and/or fold adversary back inside himself so that he cannot cope with events/efforts as they unfold.

Without friction a simple linear equation expresses the amount of energy you need to accelerate a hockey puck. With friction the relationship gets complicated, because the amount of energy changes depending on how fast the puck is already moving. Nonlinearity means that the act of playing the game has a way of changing the rules. You cannot assign a constant importance to friction, because its importance depends on speed. Speed, in turn, depends on friction. That twisted changeability makes nonlinearity hard to calculate, but it also creates rich kinds of behavior that never occur in linear systems. In fluid dynamics, everything boils down to one canonical equation, the Navier-Stokes equation. It is a miracle of brevity, relating a fluid's velocity, pressure, density, and viscosity, but it happens to be nonlinear. So the nature of those relationships often becomes impossible to pin down. Analyzing the behavior of a nonlinear equation like the Navier-Stokes equation is like walking through a maze whose walls rearrange themselves with each step you take. As Von Neumann himself put it: "The character of the equation ... changes simultaneously in all relevant respects: Both order and degree change. Hence, bad mathematical difficulties must be expected." The world would be a different place—and science would not need chaos—if only the Navier-Stokes equation did not contain the demon of nonlinearity.

In phase space the complete state of knowledge about a dynamical system at a single instant in time collapses to a point. That point is the dynamical system-at that instant. At the next instant, though, the system will have changed, ever so slightly and so the point moves. The history of the system time can be charted by the moving point, tracing its orbit through phase space with the passage of time. How can all the information about a complicated system be stored in a point? If the system has only two variables, the answer is simple. It is straight from the Cartesian geometry taught in high school-one variable on the horizontal axis, the other on the vertical. If the system is a swinging, frictionless pendulum, one variable is position and the other velocity, and they change continuously, making a line of points that traces a loop, repeating itself forever, around and around. The same system with a higher energy level-swinging faster and farther-forms a loop in phase space similar to the first, but larger. A little realism, in the form of friction, changes the picture. We do not need the equations of motion to know the density of a pendulum subject to friction. Every orbit must eventually end up at the same place, the center: position 0, velocity 0. This central fixed point "attracts" the orbits. Instead of looping around forever, they spiral inward. The friction dissipates the system's energy, and in phase space the dissipation shows itself as a pull toward the center, from the outer regions of high energy to the inner regions of low energy. The attractor-the simplest kind possible-is like a pinpoint magnet embedded in a rubber sheet.

I don’t make any pretence of knowing about the existence of a Supreme Entity, neither do I make any attempt to create any friction among religions. If anything, I have spared myself no pains in my endeavor to smoothen the ongoing friction among all religions of the world.

To test the idea, they slid pieces of cartilage against glass at various speeds, measuring the amount of friction and cartilage erosion.

Since loss of synovial fluid leads to increased friction and cartilage thinning, it’s partially responsible for joint degeneration and osteoarthritis

that hydrodynamic pressure created from moving joints reduces friction and drives synovial fluid back into cartilage, counteracting fluid lost.

Other challenges require people to master the art and science of friction shifting, to transition constantly and instantly between hitting the gas and the brakes. This skill includes moving fast and taking risks one moment, then slowing down, reflecting, and avoiding dangerous mistakes the next.

Intersections—differences in preferences, tendencies, and traits that cause us to bump into each other—account for a significant proportion of the friction and feedback in both personal and professional relationships. Marriage researcher John Gottman reports that 69 percent of the fights married couples currently have are about the same subjects they were arguing about five years ago.1 And chances are, they’ll be selecting from that same menu of arguments five years from now.

You don’t trust them. You don’t like them. They say all the wrong things at all the wrong times. Why in the world would you listen to feedback from them? Because they have a unique perspective on you. We tend to like people who like us and who are like us.3 So if you live mostly without friction with your mate or work well with a colleague, chances are you have similar styles, assumptions, and habits. Your preferences and expectations may not be identical, but the two of you fall into an easy complementariness. Because of this ease, you are often at your best and most productive with them. They can’t help you with your sharpest edges because they don’t see those edges. The woman in Procurement does. She thinks you’re arrogant, flip, irresponsible. Unpleasant, curt, avoidant. You know the problem is her—she brings out your worst. But it is your worst. It’s you under pressure, you in conflict.

Owing to the isolation in which the agriculturist lives, and to his limited education, he is but little capable of adding anything to general civilisation or learning to estimate the value of political institutions, and much less still to take an active part in the administration of public affairs and of justice, or to defend his liberty and rights. Hence he is mostly in a state of dependence on the landed proprietor. Everywhere merely agricultural nations have lived in slavery, or oppressed by despotism, feudalism, or priestcraft. The mere exclusive possession of the soil gave the despot, the oligarchy, or the priestly caste a power over the mass of the agricultural population, of which the latter could not rid themselves of their own accord. Under the powerful influence of habit, everywhere among merely agricultural nations has the yoke which brute force or superstition and priestcraft imposed upon them so grown into their very flesh that they come to regard it as a necessary constituent of their own body, as a condition of their very existence. On the other hand, the separation and variety of the operations of business, and the confederation of the productive powers, press with irresistible force the various manufacturers towards one another. Friction produces sparks of the mind, as well as those of natural fire. Mental friction, however, only exists where people live together closely, where frequent contact in commercial, scientific, social, civil, and political matters exists, where there is large interchange both of goods and ideas. The more men live together in one and the same place, the more every one of these men depends in his business on the co-operation of all others, the more the business of every one of these individuals requires knowledge, circumspection, education, and the less that obstinacy, lawlessness, oppression and arrogant opposition to justice interfere with the exertions of all these individuals and with the objects at which they aim, so much the more perfect will the civil institutions be found, so much larger will be the degree of liberty enjoyed, so much more opportunity will be given for self-improvement and for co-operation in the improvement of others. Therefore liberty and civilisation have everywhere and at all times emanated from towns, in ancient times in Greece and Italy, in the Middle Ages in Italy, Germany, Belgium, and Holland; later on in England, and still more recently in North America and France. But there are two kinds of towns, one of which we may term the productive, the other the consuming kind. There are towns which work up raw materials, and pay the country districts for these, as well as for the means of subsistence which they require, by means of manufactured goods. These are the manufacturing towns, the productive ones. The more that these prosper, the more the agriculture of the country prospers, and the more powers that agriculture unfolds, so much the greater do those manufacturing towns become. But there are also towns where those live who simply consume the rents of the land. In all countries which are civilised to some extent, a large portion of the national income is consumed as rent in the towns. It would be false, however, were we to maintain as a general principle that this consumption is injurious to production, or does not tend to promote it. For the possibility of securing to oneself an independent life by the acquisition of rents is a powertul stimulus to economy and to the utilisation of savings in agriculture and in agricultural improvements. Moreover, the man who lives on rents, stimulated by the inclination to distinguish himself before his fellow-citizens, supported by his education and his independent position, will promote, civilisation, the efficiency of public institutions, of State administration, science and art.

Sonnet of Meritocracy Where states dictate humanity, Harmony remains an eternal fiction. Diplomacy only divides people in secret, And democracy sustains that foul friction. Where the society is mesmerized by charm, And politics is fueled by populism. Values and character exist as theories, As matter of talks, not as alive aphorism. Under the sectarian watch of states, Inclusion and acceptance turn to dust. In an attempt to sustain sovereignty, Humanity of the humans gets all lost. Electing authorities on whim is only poker, Without merit as core, democracy is peacebreaker.

Opened to the music, I became first the strings, could feel on my skin the exquisite friction of the horsehair rubbing over me, and then the breeze of sound flowing past as it crossed the lips of the instrument and went out to meet the world, beginning its lonely transit of the universe. Then I passed down into the resonant black well of space inside the cello, the vibrating envelope of air formed by the curves of its spruce roof and maple walls. The instrument’s wooden interior formed a mouth capable of unparalleled eloquence—indeed, of articulating everything a human could conceive. But the cello’s interior also formed a room to write in and a skull in which to think and I was now it, with no remainder.

Nonlinearity means that the act of playing the game has a way of changing the rules. You cannot assign a constant importance to friction, because its importance depends on speed. Speed, in turn, depends on friction. That twisted changeability makes nonlinearity hard to calculate, but it also creates rich kinds of behavior that never occur in linear systems.

with his triumph and Laplace with his inspiration. But celestial mechanics differed from most earthly systems in a crucial respect. Systems that lose energy to friction are dissipative. Astronomical systems are not: they are conservative, or Hamiltonian. Actually, on a nearly infinitesimal scale, even astronomical systems suffer a kind of drag, with stars radiating away energy and tidal friction draining some momentum from orbiting bodies, but for practical purposes, astronomers’ calculations could ignore dissipation. And without dissipation, the phase space would not fold and contract in the way needed to produce an infinite fractal layering. A strange attractor could never arise. Could chaos?

We do not need the equations of motion to know the destiny of a pendulum subject to friction. Every orbit must eventually end up at the same place, the center: position 0, velocity 0. This central fixed point “attracts” the orbits. Instead of looping around forever, they spiral inward. The friction dissipates the system’s energy, and in phase space the dissipation shows itself as a pull toward the center, from the outer regions of high energy to the inner regions of low energy. The attractor—the simplest kind possible—is like a pinpoint magnet embedded in a rubber sheet.

In space, free of friction, periodic motion comes from the orbits of heavenly bodies, but on earth virtually any regular oscillation comes from some cousin of the pendulum. Basic electronic circuits are described by equations exactly the same as those describing a swinging bob. The electronic oscillations are millions of times faster, but the physics is the same.

Galileo saw the regularity because he already had a theory that predicted it. He understood what Aristotle could not: that a moving object tends to keep moving, that a change in speed or direction could only be explained by some external force, like friction.

By our century, dissipative processes like friction were recognized, and students learned to include them in equations. Students also learned that nonlinear systems were usually unsolvable, which was true, and that they tended to be exceptions—which was not true.

Lorenz realized that systems slightly more complicated than the quadratic map could produce other kinds of unexpected patterns. Hiding within a particular system could be more than one stable solution. An observer might see one kind of behavior over a very long time, yet a completely different kind of behavior could be just as natural for the system. Such a system is called intransitive. It can stay in one equilibrium or the other, but not both. Only a kick from outside can force it to change states. In a trivial way, a standard pendulum clock is an intransitive system. A steady flow of energy comes in from a wind-up spring or a battery through an escapement mechanism. A steady flow of energy is drained out by friction. The obvious equilibrium state is a regular swinging motion. If a passerby bumps the clock, the pendulum might speed up or slow down from the momentary jolt but will quickly return to its equilibrium. But the clock has a second equilibrium as well—a second valid solution to its equations of motion—and that is the state in which the pendulum is hanging straight down and not moving. A less trivial intransitive system—perhaps with several distinct regions of utterly different behavior—could be climate itself.

One day when you stop by for the study, the bowl of popcorn is on the table within easy reach, about a foot away, while the apple slices are on a counter—visible, although you’d have to stand up to take one. On another day you stop by, the apples are on the table and the popcorn is on the counter. Participants ate about 50 calories when the apples were within easy reach, but about three times more when the popcorn bowl was within reach. Friction in this study was pretty simple—distance. Just putting the high-calorie snack slightly out of reach was substantial friction. Participants could still see and smell the popcorn, but the distance was enough to discourage eating. By putting desserts at the end of the line (instead of at the beginning) and making healthy foods easier to see, restaurants can influence what people eat. As the saying goes, “Eye level is buy level.” If we have to bend low or reach high, we’re less likely to bother.