Picard Quotes

It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not weakness, that is life.

PICARD: There is no greater challenge than the study of philosophy. WESLEY: But William James won't be in my Starfleet exams. PICARD: The important things never will be. Anyone can be trained in the mechanics of piloting a starship. WESLEY: But Starfleet Academy PICARD: It takes more. Open your mind to the past. Art, history, philosophy. And all this may mean something.

Matter of internal security - the age-old cry of the oppressor. Picard

Seize the time... Live now! Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again.

It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not weakness, that is life.

The road from legitimate suspicion to rampant paranoia is very much shorter than we think.

With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably. -- Star Trek: The Next Generation

Things are only impossible until they are not.

The acquisition of wealth is no longer the driving force of our lives. We work to better ourselves and the rest of humanity.

If we're going to be damned, let's be damned for what we really are.

I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we've lived.

Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives. I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we've lived. After all Number One, we're only mortal.

Q: The Continuum didn't think you had it in you, Jean-Luc. But I knew you did...We wanted to see if you had the ability to expand your mind and your horizons. And for one brief moment, you did. Picard: When I realized the paradox. Q: Exactly. For that one fraction of a second, you were open to options you had never considered. That is the exploration that awaits you. Not mapping stars and studying nebula, but charting the unknown possibilities of existence.

I am not a properly trained historian. I am a lawyer by trade, and an inquisitive, practical woman by character.

You cannot explain away a wantonly immoral act because you think that it is connected to some higher purpose.

The acquisition of wealth is no longer the driving force in our lives. We work to better ourselves and the rest of humanity.

There’s still much to do; still so much to learn. Mr. La Forge – engage!

There can be no justice so long as law is absolute. Even life itself is an excercise in exceptions.” “When has justice ever been as simple as a rule-book?” - Riker

With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably. The first time any man's freedom is trodden on we're all damaged...."-Aaron Satie words of wisdom and warning

Come on Jess, you can do this.  You’ve seen all of Star Trek.  This is first contact, what would Kirk do?  Actually, scratch that, Kirk would probably fuck him.  What would Picard do?  That’s much safer.

It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness; that is life.

This was a conversation I had with a so-called-fellow-trekkie the other day: ''So Picard or Kirk?'' I asked. ''What?'' ''Star Trek...'' ''Oh, Kirk.'' ''Why?'' ''I like the name better.'' I could have slammed his head against the table.

Madame Picard believed that a child should be allowed to read anything: 'A book never does any harm if it is well written.' While she was there, I had once asked permission to read Madame Bovary and my mother, in an oversweet voice, had said: 'But if my darling reads books like that at his age, what will he do when he grows up?' 'I shall live them!' This reply had met with the most complete and lasting success.

It'll not kill you.

Shut up, Wesley!" - Jean Luc Picard

Picard only saw the movie, which had the entire Tales of the Black Starship subplot removed for time.

Where other girls would have a framed picture of a boy band, she has a photograph of Jean-Luc Picard on her nightstand. I love her.

‎'After a few seconds, I knew Tuesday was listening. He locked into my eyes, and a calm came over him that I had never seen before. Maybe the part of him that wanted love opened up. Maybe he realized, finally, that this wasn't like any rela tionship he'd had before. He had been on a treadmill, racing toward each new handler but always ending in the exact spot: alone. He didn't know I was the mission he'd been training for, but at that moment, at the very least, he realized I needed him. And maybe I realized, in my heart and in my head, that this was a two-way relationship and he needed me too. All I know for sure is that when I looked up, everybody was staring at us. Staff, dogs, veterans, everybody. Even the photographer had lowered his camera. Lu Picard told me later that we were together for five minutes, although I could have it was thirty seconds at the most. 'What was that about?' she asked, as Tuesday and I walked post, side by side. 'We're okay now.' I told her. 'We reached an understanding.

Inside his copy of The Social Contract he keeps a letter from a young Picard, an enthusiast called Antoine Saint-Just: “I know you, Robespierre, as I know God, by your works.” When he suffers, as he does increasingly, from a distressing tightness of the chest and shortness of breath, and when his eyes seem too tired to focus on the printed page, the thought of the letter urges the weak flesh to more Works.

The sixth of January, 1482, is not, however, a day of which history has preserved the memory. There was nothing notable in the event which thus set the bells and the bourgeois of Paris in a ferment from early morning. It was neither an assault by the Picards nor the Burgundians, nor a hunt led along in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the town of Laas, nor an entry of “our much dread lord, monsieur the king,” nor even a pretty hanging of male and female thieves by the courts of Paris. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent in the fifteenth

They may well have had a backup system, but if it crashed at the same time as their main system, then that's all she wrote,' Riker said. 'Excuse mee, sir' said Data. 'That's all who wrote?' 'It's merely an expression, Mr. Data,' said Picard. 'It means that was the end of it. There was nothing they could do.' 'That's all she wrote' repeated Data. He nodded. 'Yes, I see. She, in this case, doubtless referring to the human conceptualization of Fate, writing a final chapter, as it were, and putting a period to the-' 'Please, Mr. Data,' Picard said impatiently.

A Frenchman! Where did you pick up that expression? Are these Burgundians and Bretons and Picards and Gascons beginning to call themselves Frenchmen, just as our fellows are beginning to call themselves Englishmen? They actually talk of France and England as their countries. Theirs, if you please! What is to become of me and you if that way of thinking comes into fashion?

PICARD: Did you read that book I gave you? (Wesley reacts, barely concealing a grimace as he recalls.) WESLEY: Some of it. PICARD: That's reassuring. WESLEY: I just don't have much time. PICARD: (re the book in his hand) There is no greater challenge than the study of philosophy. (Wesley glances over at Picard's book) WESLEY: William James sure won't be on my Starfleet exams. PICARD: The important things never will be. Anyone can be trained to deal with technology, and the mechanics of piloting a starship. WESLEY: But Starfleet Academy-- PICARD: It takes more than just that. Open your mind to the past... to history, art, philosophy. And then... (re: the stars) ...this will mean something. (Wesley considers this, almost embarrassed as he realizes Picard does truly care about him.) Then: PICARD (continuing) Just consider James' wisdom: "Philosophy... is not a technical matter... it is our sense of what life honestly means... our individual way of feeling the total push and pressure of the cosmos." (then) That's what I want for you. From: STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Samaritan Snare" #40272-143 Written by Robert L. McCullough

It is possible to commit no mistakes, and still lose. That is not weakness. That is life.

It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.

(My favorite line from Captain Picard of Star Trek: The Next Generation is, “I have made some fine mistakes in my life.” It is so humble, wise, and self-confident, all at once.)

One evening I came home and there on the couch I found my husband, Tom, with a freshly fledged crow sitting calmly in his lap. They were busy watching Star Trek: The Next Generation; since Captain Jean-Luc Picard was in the middle of an absorbing monologue, they hardly registered my arrival, but finally they both glanced my way, Tom looking a bit sheepish, the crow nibbling bits from a can of gourmet cat food. I thought of something Bernd Heinrich wrote, inspired by his raven studies, "Living with another creature, you naturally feel closer to it the more activities that can be shared, especially important activities like watching TV.

One of Geordi’s first stops is to visit his good pal Wesley Crusher, who shows off one of his science projects (a mini tractor beam) and one of his toys, a device that lets Wesley recreate speech from anyone on the ship. Any doubt that Wesley is a complete weenie is removed when we learn that he uses this device to have Captain Picard say things like, “Welcome to the bridge, Wesley,” instead of having Counselor Troi say things like, “Smack my ass, Wesley, I’m a naughty, naughty bitch.

Wesley Crusher: Say goodbye, Data. Lt. Cmdr. Data: Goodbye, Data. [crew laughs] Lt. Cmdr. Data: Was that funny? Wesley Crusher: [laughs] Lt. Cmdr. Data: Accessing. Ah! Burns and Allen, Roxy Theater, New York City, 1932. It still works. [pauses] Lt. Cmdr. Data: Then there was the one about the girl in the nudist colony, that nothing looked good on? Lieutenant Worf: We're ready to get under way, sir. Lt. Cmdr. Data: Take my Worf, please. Commander William T. Riker: [to Captain Picard] Warp speed, sir? Captain Jean-Luc Picard: Please.

Somehow, Picard reflected, being snubbed by a Vulcan didn’t seem as objectionable as being snubbed by someone else. Maybe it was because they were so reserved to begin with. Someday, he told himself, I would like to get to know a Vulcan better. Get inside his head, as it were.

Au contraire, he's the person you wanted to be. One who was less arrogant, and undisciplined as a youth. One who was less like me. The Jean-Luc Picard you wanted to be, the one who did not fight the Nausicaan, had quite a different career from the one you remember. That Picard never had a brush with death, never came face to face with his own mortality, never realised how fragile life is or how important each moment must be. So his life never came into focus. He drifted for much of his career, with no plan or agenda, going from one assignment to the next, never seizing the opportunities that presented themselves. He never lead the away team on Milika Three to save the ambassador, or take charge of the Stargazer's Bridge when its Captain was killed. And no one ever offered him a command. He learned to play it safe. And he never, ever got noticed by anyone.

The sixth of January, 1482, is not, however, a day of which history has preserved the memory. There was nothing notable in the event which thus set the bells and the bourgeois of Paris in a ferment from early morning. It was neither an assault by the Picards nor the Burgundians, nor a hunt led along in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the town of Laas, nor an entry of “our much dread lord, monsieur the king,” nor even a pretty hanging of male and female thieves by the courts of Paris. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent in the fifteenth century, of some plumed and bedizened embassy. It was barely two days since the last cavalcade of that nature, that of the Flemish ambassadors charged with concluding the marriage between the dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of M. lé Cardinal de Bourbon, who, for the sake of pleasing the king, had been obliged to assume an amiable mien towards this whole rustic rabble of Flemish burgomasters, and to regale them at his Hôtel de Bourbon, with a very “pretty morality, allegorical satire, and farce,” while a driving rain drenched the magnificent tapestries at his door.

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.

Where silence is, man is observed by silence. Silence looks at man more than man looks at silence. Man does not put silence to the test; silence puts man to the test.

Life’s the cruel teacher, kid. I just grade the homework.

Enjoy what you have. Forget what you haven't.

Never let what’s lawful stop you from doing what’s right.

sweating like a Risan socialator in a Bajoran temple

Bread was normally made commercially. The bakers had been organized into a company as early as 1155. Each baker had to have his own seal, impressed on every loaf he sold.

A simple, magnificent equation: ingenuity plus hope equals change

Is that a small moon?” I said. “Negative,” Data said. “It is an artificial construct, perhaps a space station.” “It’s larger than any space station I’ve ever seen,

Dusk fell, and from the sacred oak-tree by the Scaean Gate the two vultures were gone; god and goddess, for the moment, reconciled.

Maybe they seeded life on Earth millions of years ago, and now they’re here to punish us for turning out to be such a lame species and inventing reality TV and shit?” He raised an index finger. “Or maybe they’re omnipotent beings who have grown bored with immortality, and they’re just tormenting us for their own twisted amusement? You know, like whenever Q would pop in from the continuum to fuck with Picard!

The Enterprise is on a diplomatic mission to meet the Jarada, an alien species with a peculiar affinity for protocol: if Picard doesn’t speak a particular greeting in exactly the right way at exactly the right time, the Jarada won’t join the Federation, and they’ll take all their mythical Jaradan weed with them. You can imagine, the success of this mission is especially important to everyone on Starbase 420.

...in his wild grief Achilles cried aloud, and his mother Thetis heard him...Immediately she rose up through the water...after her came her sisters...and each one's wailing was the thin sound of the wind upon the waves.

Nothing has changed the nature of man so much as the loss of silence. The invention of printing, technics, compulsory education— nothing has so altered man as this lack of relationship to silence, this fact that silence is no longer taken for granted, as something as natural as the sky above or the air we breathe. Man who has lost silence has not merely lost one human quality but his whole structure has been changed thereby. — MAX PICARD FRENCH PHILOSOPHER

C’est de ta faute, Fabrice Picard. C’est de ta faute si tout est brun, gris, laid. C’est de ta faute si les fleurs ne sentent plus rien. Je suis affaiblie, c’est de ta faute aussi, et je t’emmerde. Laure Bastien, j’ai envie de te griffer. Sentir ta peau se rompre, ta chair se fendre, gratter tes os. Je te souhaite un virus douloureux. Vous êtes si présents, tout les deux, si lourds. Je suis chancelante, c’est votre faute. Je me traîne. Je vous traîne sur mon dos. »

There are times, sir, when men of good conscience cannot blindly follow orders. You acknowledge their sentience but you ignore their personal liberties and freedom. Order a man to hand his child over to the state? Not while I am his Captain.

There was a tendency for men following the same trade to live near each other, so some wards drew their wealth from plutocratic residents, such as the goldsmiths or the mercers, while others were home to poor artisans such as the tallow chandlers.

Societies depend on the good faith of those who govern them more than most folks realize. People count on shame to keep bad actors in line. But when someone utterly shameless comes along and just runs roughshod over the law? No one knows what to do.

And that is why people think that computers don’t have minds, and why people think that their brains are special, and different from computers. Because people can see the screen inside their head and they think there is someone in their head sitting there looking at the screen, like Captain Jean-Luc Picard in Star Trek: The Next Generation sitting in his captain’s seat looking at a big screen. And they think that this person is their special human mind, which is called a homunculus, which means a little man. And they think that computers don’t have this homunculus. But this homunculus is just another picture on the screen in their heads. And when the homunculus is on the screen in their heads (because the person is thinking about the homunculus) there is another bit of the brain watching the screen. And when the person thinks about this part of the brain (the bit that is watching the homunculus on the screen) they put this bit of the brain on the screen and there is another bit of the brain watching the screen. But the brain doesn’t see this happen because it is like the eye flicking from one place to another and people are blind inside their heads when they do the changing from thinking about one thing to thinking about another.

The ever-present war in the background lent a pleasant informality to social relations, an informality which older people viewed with alarm. Mothers found strange men calling on their daughters, men who came without letters of introduction and whose antecedents were unknown. To their horror, mothers found their daughters holding hands with these men. Mrs. Merriwether, who had never kissed her husband until after the wedding ceremony, could scarcely believe her eyes when she caught Maybelle kissing the little Zouave, Rene Picard, and her consternation was even greater when Maybelle refused to be ashamed. Even the fact that Rene immediately asked for her hand did not improve matters. Mrs. Merriwether felt that the South was heading for a complete moral collapse and frequently said so. Other mothers concurred heartily with her and blamed it on the war. But men who expected to die within a week or a month could not wait a year before they begged to call a girl by her first name, with "Miss," of course, preceding it. Nor would they go through the formal and protracted courtships which good manners had prescribed before the war. They were likely to propose in three or four months. And girls who knew very well that a lady always refused a gentlemen the first three times he proposed rushed headlong to accept the first time.

There, at the top of the stairs, was the world: acres and miles of open land, an arc of the planet, curving off and lighted in the distance under the morning sky. The building we had just passed through was, it turned out, only the entrance to an open dig, where Chinese archaeologists were in the years-long process of excavating a buried army of life-sized clay soldiers. I saw what looked like human bodies coming out of the earth. Straight trenches cut the bare soil into deep corridors or long pits. From the trench walls emerged an elbow here, a leg and foot there, a head and neck. Everything was the same color, the terra-cotta earth and the people: the color of plant pots. Seeing the broad earth under the open sky, and a patch of it sliced into deep corridors from which bodies emerge, surprises many people to tears. Who would not weep from shock? I seemed to see our lives from the aspect of eternity. I seemed long dead and looking down. For it is in our lifetimes alone that people can witness the unearthing of the deep-dwelling army of Emperor Qin—the seven thousand or the ten thousand soldiers, their real crossbows and swords, their horses and chariots, bared to the light for the first time in 2,200 years. “In the pictures of the old masters,” Max Picard wrote in The World of Silence, “people seem as though they had just come out of the opening in a wall; as if they had wriggled their way out with difficulty. They seem unsafe and hesitant because they have come out too far and still belong more to silence than themselves.

Vào một thời đại khi chính thể chuyên chế thao túng mọi cách hầu làm mất giá trị và nhân phẩm, chúng ta tin chắc rằng, tiếng nói của những ai ủng hộ sự tĩnh lặng và tự do bên trong của con người đều cần được lắng nghe. Tiếng ầm ĩ giết người của chủ nghĩa duy vật nơi chúng ta không được phép dập tắt những tiếng nói vốn sẽ không bao giờ ngưng vang lên: liệu chúng có phải là tiếng nói của các Thánh Kitô Hữu, tiếng nói của những nhà thông thái Phương Đông như Lão Tử hay các Thiền sư, tiếng nói của những người như Thoreau hay Martin Buber, hay Max Picard. Hoàn toàn đúng khi nhấn mạnh rằng, con người là một “con vật xã hội” – sự thật đủ cho thấy. Nhưng đó không phải là lý do để biện hộ cho việc biến con người thành một bánh xe nhỏ trong một guồng máy chuyên chế – hay một bánh xe tôn giáo trước vấn đề đó. Thật ra, sự tồn tại của một xã hội tuỳ thuộc vào sự trầm lắng riêng tư bất khả xâm phạm của các thành viên trong đó. Để xứng đáng với tên gọi của mình, xã hội được cấu thành không phải từ những con số hay những đơn vị máy móc, nhưng bởi những nhân vị. Việc trở thành một nhân vị bao hàm trách nhiệm và tự do. Cả hai điều này lại muốn nói đến một sự tĩnh lặng bên trong nào đó, một ý thức về sự chính trực cá nhân, ý thức về thực tại riêng tư cũng như khả năng của mỗi người để trao ban chính mình cho xã hội – hay để từ chối quà tặng đó. Bị nhấn chìm hoàn toàn trong một biển người vô danh, bị xô đẩy dồn ép bởi những thế lực vô thức, con người đánh mất nhân tính đích thực, đánh mất sự chính trực, đánh mất khả năng yêu thương và khả năng tự quyết của mình. Khi xã hội được cấu thành bởi những con người vốn không biết sự tĩnh lặng bên trong là gì, xã hội đó không còn được liên kết với nhau bằng tình yêu. Do đó, nó được nối kết với nhau bởi một thứ quyền lực lạm dụng và bạo lực. Khi con người bị cưỡng bách để rồi mất đi sự tĩnh lặng và tự do lẽ ra họ đáng được, thì xã hội trong đó họ đang sống lại trở nên đồi bại, thối rữa bởi sự hèn hạ, căm phẫn và hận thù. Không khối tiến bộ kỹ thuật nào có thể chữa lành mối thù hằn vốn ăn mòn nhựa sống của một xã hội duy vật tựa hồ căn bệnh ung thư thiêng liêng. Phương pháp trị liệu duy nhất là, và phải luôn luôn là, thiêng liêng. Nói thật nhiều về Thiên Chúa và tình yêu cho con người sẽ trở nên một việc vô bổ nếu họ không có khả năng lắng nghe. Đôi tai mà nhờ đó, người ta lắng nghe thông điệp của Tin Mừng đang ẩn tàng trong tâm hồn con người, và những đôi tai này không nghe bất cứ điều gì trừ phi chúng được ưu đãi với một sự trầm lắng và tĩnh lặng bên trong nào đó. Nói cách khác, vì đức tin là một vấn đề thuộc tự do và tự quyết – đón nhận nhưng không quà tặng ân sủng được trao ban cách nhưng không – con người không thể chấp nhận một thông điệp thiêng liêng bao lâu tâm hồn và trí óc nó còn là nô lệ của hành động vô ý thức. Con người sẽ luôn là nô lệ chừng nào nó vẫn đắm chìm trong khối những cổ người máy khác, hoặc chừng nào nó không còn tính cá vị hay sự chính trực đúng đắn của mình với tư cách là những nhân vị. Những gì được nói ở đây về sự cô tịch không chỉ là một giải pháp cho các nhà ẩn tu, nó còn liên quan đến toàn thể tương lai của con người và số phận của thế giới trong đó nó đang sống; và đặc biệt, dĩ nhiên, đến tương lai đời sống tôn giáo của nó.

Perhaps what we most need was a kick in our complacency — to prepare us or what lies ahead.

The Golden Rule remains the best guidance in these matters,” said Picard. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

MICHAEL PILLER As soon as I started, I said, “I need to see every script, every abandoned story, and every submitted piece of material that’s sitting around, because I have to have something to shoot next week.” Somebody gave me a script called “The Bonding,” by a guy named Ron Moore who was about to go into the Marines, and it was a very interesting story about a kid whose mother goes down on an away mission and gets killed. The kid is obviously torn apart by the death of his mother, and seeing how much he’s suffering, aliens provide him with a mother substitute. The writing was rough and amateurish in some ways, but I thought it had real potential to tell an interesting story. I went to Gene and pitched him the story, and he said it didn’t work. I asked him why, and he said, “Because in the twenty-fourth century, death is accepted as a part of life, so this child would not be mourning the death of his mother. He would be perfectly accepting of the fact that she had lived a good life, and he would move on with his life.” I went back to the writing staff and told them what Gene had said, and they sort of smirked and said, “Ah-ha, you see? Now you know what we’ve been going through.” I said, “Wait a minute, let’s think about it. Is there any way we can satisfy Gene’s twenty-fourth-century rules and at the same time not lose the story that we have to shoot on Tuesday?” I finally said, “Look, what if this kid has in fact been taught all of his life not to mourn the death of his loved ones, because that’s what society expects of him? He’s taught that death is a part of life, so he loses his mother and doesn’t have any reaction at all. That’s what Gene is telling us has to happen. Well, that is freaky, that is weird, and that’s going to feel far more interesting on film than if he’s crying for two acts. What if the aliens who feel guilty about killing his mother provide him with a mother substitute and the kid bonds with this mother substitute, and it’s Troi who goes to Picard and says, “We have a problem? The kid is not going to give up this mother substitute until he really accepts and mourns the death of his real mother, and we’re going to have to penetrate centuries of civilization to get to the emotional core of this kid in order to wake up his emotional life.” So the show becomes a quest for emotional release and the privilege of mourning. Well, Gene loved the idea. It respected his universe and at the same time turned a fairly predictable story on its ear, and it became a far better story and episode than it would have if Gene had simply signed off on the original pitch. SANDRA

By the end of the night, Hannah was talking about Vulcans and Klingons and warp speed travel. Clara couldn’t help but feel just a bit proud of herself. By the end of the week, they were finished with Kirk and Spock and on to Picard and Riker. Within a few weeks, they would be on to Sisko and Janeway, too, and Hannah would scribble the Bird-of-Prey in her notebook and think of the stars.

So when you see Captain Picard or Commander Sisko decide that logic, reason, and communication are the way to solve problems and not turn to violence, then we were telling something to our audience that needs to be said on a regular basis.

Exodus.” Troi echoed the word. “That term has weight, Mister Zade. It speaks to the migration of an entire population. Is that what is happening here?” Zade looked down. “It is.” “But why are you doing this?” Vale frowned, unable to grasp the scope of it. “Where are you going to go?” “Do not be concerned, Commander.” Zade moved toward the turbolift. “This quadrant, these stars… They are no longer a place where my people feel welcome.

thought Picard with mild disgust at the niceties with which the prim cloak the repulsive fact of death.

Enterprise. Picard. Two to beam up!

The twenty- third century is an odd place to begin a book about events that were set in motion in the early seventeenth century. I am a historian, retired career military officer, and priest. As a historian I believe the truth, even when uncomfortable or damning, should be told. I take as inspiration a statement by Sir Patrick Stewart, in his role as Captain Jean Luc Picard, in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode “The First Duty.” In the story Picard tells Cadet Wesley Crusher, “The first duty of every Starfleet officer is to the truth, whether it’s scientific truth or historical truth or personal truth! It is the guiding principle on which Starfleet is based.

Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives. But I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment because they'll never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we've lived.

At the docking ring, before the group separated, Picard went to Sisko and the two men shook hands solemnly. “I’m sorry that this is what has brought us together after so many years,” he began. “What there is between you and I… I would have liked the opportunity to know you better.

[les amis] goûtent le plaisir de se taire ensemble, de se taire côte à côte, de marcher longtemps, longtemps, d'aller, de marcher silencieusement le long des silencieuses routes. Heureux deux amis qui s'aiment assez pour (savoir) se taire ensemble. Dans un pays qui sait se taire.

Whether dealing with fact or fiction, the symbolic or the literal, the storytelling impulse is a human universal. We take in the world through our senses, and in pursuing coherence and envisioning possibility we seek patterns, we invent patterns, and we imagine patterns. With story we articulate what we find. It is an ongoing process that is central to how we arrange our lives and make sense of existence. Stories of characters, real and fanciful, responding to situations familiar and extraordinary, provide a virtual universe of human engagement that infuses our responses and refines our actions. Sometime in the far future, if we finally play host to visitors from a distant world, our scientific narratives will contain truths they will have likely discovered too, and so will have little to offer. Our human narratives, as with Picard and the Tamarians, will tell them who we are.

[les amis] goûtent le plaisir de se taire ensemble, de se taire côte à côte, de marcher longtemps, longtemps, d'aller, de marcher silencieusement le long des silencieuses routes. Heureux deux amis qui s'aiment assez pour (savoir) se taire ensemble. Dans un pays qui sait se taire.

THERE! ARE! FOUR! LIGHTS!

Vaughn brushed at his neat, silvery beard, smiling. “I want to learn,  Jean-Luc. I want to explore, and live in each moment, and feel excited about my experiences—not because I want to recapture that blush of youth, but because it’s what I’ve always wanted, and I’m too damned old to put it off for one more minute.” “Come, my friends, ’tis not too late to seek a newer world,” Picard thought, smiling back at him. “Does this mean you’re leaving Starfleet?” Vaughn shook his head. “I don’t know.  And the amazing thing is, I don’t know if it actually matters. If what I want to do doesn’t fit in with Starfleet’s agenda, I’ll leave.” “Bravo, Elias,” Picard said warmly, amusedly considering Starfleet’s reaction to the news that one of their most capable officers, with clearance that probably went higher than the captain dared to speculate, might be quitting in order to find himself.

There’s a difference between knowing circuses used to have clowns and having a bunch of them beat the hell out of you.

back up his story? He didn’t give Picard any other names. Only Farley.” Tyson shook his head. “Maybe Farley was the only one whose whereabouts he knew. Maybe they kept up their wartime acquaintance.” “A medical doctor and a strung-out paraplegic junkie? I doubt that. Were they good friends over there?” “Not that I recall.” Corva sat. “This is like pulling teeth. You are not going to tell me what motivates Brandt and Farley, though I think you know.” “Maybe later, Vince, if it gets down to that.” Corva snapped his briefcase shut. “Okay. So Friday it will be you and I and Colonel

Allow your inner-child out to play!

As the UFO continues to blast away at the Bandi city, Picard tells them to grab Zorn and beam him up to the Enterprise, because that dude totally knows something about the mystery of Farpoint Station. (He totally stole the file off the teacher’s desk when Q wasn’t looking.)Then he tells Tasha to lock phasers onto the UFO, just in case. You know, he’s actually doing a good job handling these things, making logical and difficult decisions while under a not insignificant amount of pressure… and then Q shows up to pee all over everything.

Q is like a stupid Internet Troll; he makes some strawman accusation against Picard, Picard refutes his argument with logic and reason, and Q just changes the terms of the argument, all the while enjoying the attention he’s getting. But does anyone create alt.q.die.die.die? No, of course not. Life is so fucking unfair.

They all hop into the turbolift, and Picard says, “Hey, I think it’s great that you guys know each other, because it’s important for my key officers to be familiar with each other’s abilities.” Troi says, “We are, sir,” and Riker and Picard subtly high-five each other as the doors close.

Some baths were made of zinc, a metal which had made its début at the Great Exhibition in the shape, much admired for her curves, of Amazon by the German sculptor Kiss, and an 18-foot statue of Queen Victoria, admired for the maker’s tact, all in zinc. It

This story created a sensation when it was first told. It appeared in the papers and many big Physicists and Natural Philosophers were, at least so they thought, able to explain the phenomenon. I shall narrate the event and also tell the reader what explanation was given, and let him draw his own conclusions. This was what happened. A friend of mine, a clerk in the same office as myself, was an amateur photographer; let us call him Jones. Jones had a half plate Sanderson camera with a Ross lens and a Thornton Picard behind lens shutter, with pneumatic release. The plate in question was a Wrattens ordinary, developed with Ilford Pyro Soda developer prepared at home. All these particulars I give for the benefit of the more technical reader. Mr. Smith, another clerk in our office, invited Mr. Jones to take a likeness of his wife and sister-in-law. This sister-in-law was the wife of Mr. Smith's elder brother, who was also a Government servant, then on leave. The idea of the photograph was of the sister-in-law. Jones was a keen photographer himself. He had photographed every body in the office including the peons and sweepers, and had even supplied every sitter of his with copies of his handiwork. So he most willingly consented, and anxiously waited for the Sunday on which the photograph was to be taken. Early on Sunday morning, Jones went to the Smiths'. The arrangement of light in the verandah was such that a photograph could only be taken after midday; and so he stayed there to breakfast. At about one in the afternoon all arrangements were complete and the two ladies, Mrs. Smiths, were made to sit in two cane chairs and after long and careful focussing, and moving the camera about for an hour, Jones was satisfied at last and an exposure was made. Mr. Jones was sure that the plate was all right; and so, a second plate was not exposed although in the usual course of things this should have been done. He wrapped up his things and went home promising to develop the plate the same night and bring a copy of the photograph the next day to the office. The next day, which was a Monday, Jones came to the office very early, and I was the first person to meet him. "Well, Mr. Photographer," I asked "what success?" "I got the picture all right," said Jones, unwrapping an unmounted picture and handing it over to me "most funny, don't you think so?" "No, I don't ... I think it is all right, at any rate I did not expect anything better from you ...", I said. "No," said Jones "the funny thing is that only two ladies sat ..." "Quite right," I said "the third stood in the middle." "There was no third lady at all there ...", said Jones. "Then you imagined she was there, and there we find her ..." "I tell you, there were only two ladies there when I exposed" insisted Jones. He was looking awfully worried. "Do you want me to believe that there were only two persons when the plate was exposed and three when it was developed?" I asked. "That is exactly what has happened," said Jones. "Then it must be the most wonderful developer you used, or was it that this was the second exposure given to the same plate?" "The developer is the one which I have been using for the last three years, and the plate, the one I charged on Saturday night out of a new box that I had purchased only on Saturday afternoon." A number of other clerks had come up in the meantime, and were taking great interest in the picture and in Jones' statement. It is only right that a description of the picture be given here for the benefit of the reader. I wish I could reproduce the original picture too, but that for certain reasons is impossible. When the plate was actually exposed there were only two ladies, both of whom were sitting in cane chairs. When the plate was developed it was found that there was in the picture a figure, that of a lady, standing in the middle. She wore a broad-edged dhoti (the reader should not forget that all the characters are Indians), only the upper half of her

Bir hara sahibi olan, elinde kırbaç dolaştırmayı ve melez kızları seven Grimaud için ‘Haçlı’ örgütüne girmek erkeklik gösterisiydi. Fayans ve porselen satan bir mağazanın sahibi Godet ise komünistlerin işine ve parasına el koymalarından korkuyor, günün birinde gelip malını yağma edeceklerini sanıyordu. Geniş omuzlu, kırmızı yüzlü bir adamdı. Her sabah sürekli jimnastik yaparak gelecekteki kavgalara hazırlıyordu kendini. Aubry metroda memurdu. Dünya yüzünde görülmemiş çirkinlikte bir yaratıktı. Vaktiyle sevdiği bir genç kızın ona çok eziyet ettiği söylenirdi. Her şeyden nefret eder, yalnızca Breuteuil’in yanında yüzü gülerdi. Onun dünyayı düzelteceğine inanırdı. ‘Haçlılar’ın arasında çok sayıda polis vardı. Haçlı birliklerinin varlığını Emniyet Müdürlüğü de biliyor ve göz yumuyordu. Breuteuil örgütünü kamufle etmek için spor ve dostluk dernekleri kuruyor, toplantılar düzenliyordu. Bu da para isteyen bir işti. Breuteuil defalarca büyük kapitalistlere başvurmuş, hep eli boş dönmüştü. Onlara, yalnızca propaganda işlerinden bahsetmiyor, alacakları parayla silahlanacaklarını da anlatıyordu. Bu dobralığı kapitalistleri korkutuyordu. Son haftaların olayları Breuteuil’i yine aranan adam yapmıştı. Tröstleri yönetenler üst üste patlayan grevler karşısında ürkmüşlerdi. Artık hükümete yaptıkları baskı bile istedikleri sonucu vermiyordu. Şimdi hepsi Breuteuil’den medet umuyorlardı. Hasta çocuğun başında haç çıkardı Breuteuil. Sonra kalktı ‘L’Amicale des Messinis’ adlı örgüte gitti. Orada General Picard ile buluşacaktı. Büyük caddelerde bütün dükkânların vitrinleri aydınlanmıştı. Oralarda bile grevcilerin sloganları yazılıydı. Yazıların çevresine kırmızı kurdeleler bağlanmıştı. Bazı mağazaların önünde genç kızlar ellerinde bağış kutularıyla bekliyorlardı: Grevcilerin çocukları için yardım toplanıyordu. Bazı yayalar bunu görünce kaşlarını çatıp adımlarını sıklaştırıyorlardı. Bazıları kızların elindeki kumbaraya para atıyorlardı. Önünden geçtiği bir genç kız kendisine kumbarayı uzatınca Breuteuil durdu; sert bir sesle: “Hanyayı konyayı çalışma kamplarında öğreneceksiniz!” dedi. General Picard, Breuteuil’i bekliyordu. General altmış yaşlarında, zayıfça, bacakları çarpık bir süvariydi. Göğsü madalya doluydu. Kendini beğenmiş bir gülüşü vardı. Herkesi küçümserdi: Daladier’yi, Gamelin’i, İngiltere Kralı’nı ve karısını, tiyatroları, gazeteleri, seçimleri... Ama Breuteuil’i çok sayardı, onun Fransa’yı ve orduyu kurtarabilecek tek adam olduğuna inanırdı. Breuteuil sordu: “Orduda durum nasıl?” “Bir yığın budala; üstelik hain hepsi. Blum kendilerini saf dışı edecek diye ödleri patlıyor.” “Askerin morali?” “Berbat. Komünistler fena çalışıyor. Ordu olsa olsa tarafsız kalır bu durumda. Kolonilerdeki birlikler için durum farklı tabi. Tunus’taki iki alayı buraya, Vincennes garnizonuna getirmeyi başardım ben.” “O iki alaydan başkası bizi desteklemezse bir şey yapamayız. Demek ki hareketi ‘Haçlılar’ yapacak. İki seçenek var şimdi: Ya bize silah vereceksiniz ya da biz verelim diyenler var, onlardan alacağız.” “Kim?” Breuteuil generale baktı ve bozuk bir sesle yanıt verdi: “Kim verecek? Bu önemli değil; ne verecekler? O önemli. Altmış bin tüfek, dört yüz mitralyöz ve cephane. Hepsi Düsseldorf’tan gelecek. Kendi programımızın dışında olan bir fedakarlık yapmayacağız hem. Yani içeride düzeni, dışarıda barışı sağlayacağız.” Bir an durakladıktan sonra Picard ne düşündüğünü söyledi: “Fena sayılmaz! Kendi payıma böyle bir iş için otomatik tüfekleri daha uygun görürüm. Ama siz alın silahları. Ben de depolardan aşırırım, olur.” “Önce hükümete d

~ Life, with all its twists and turns, is a testament to the unpredictable nature of existence. We may never fully understand the forces at play or the reasons behind our setbacks. Perhaps it's the whims of fate or the caprice of fortune. Regardless, we must acknowledge that perfection in action does not guarantee success. Time and chance happen to every man, and that our journey is defined not by the victories we achieve, but by the courage we display in the face of adversity. So let us take our chances, knowing that even in defeat, there lies the opportunity for growth and self-discovery.

The Picard principle is the adage that “It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness; that is life.” This principle denotes that even if you follow the best course of action available to you, you can sometimes still end up with a negative outcome, such as failure to achieve your goals. For instance you can submit a strong application for a job, and get rejected because the person who assessed the application already had a preferred candidate in mind. This principle helps you assess situations more rationally and cope with negative emotions, for instance when you would otherwise criticize yourself too harshly for a failure that wasn’t your fault. The risks of this principle are that it can lead you to avoid taking responsibility in cases where you should, and that it can cause feelings of frustration and helplessness.

Este enfoque, basado en un importante trabajo de campo empírico, se inspira en los modelos y categorías de la economía de los medios (Albarran, 1996; Picard, 1989), la ecología evolutiva (Pianka, 1983) y la teoría de los usos y gratificaciones (Katz et al., 1973). En

Your Honor, the courtroom is a crucible. In it we burn away irrelevancies until we are left with a pure product, the truth for all time.

He knew, with unwavering certainty, that just like organic beings, artificial ones had the same capacity to bring goodness into the universe, as much as they could do the opposite. The nature of a sentient being’s origin did not matter. It was the expression of that life that created light or darkness.

There are political ramifications to a statement like that—” “Councilor Quest, I leave politics to the politicians. But we must be very clear—math is math. Let me remind you what a great scientist once said, when asked to make mathematics bend to the wishes of politicians. ‘Nature cannot be fooled.’ ” Around her there was a great stir. Quest looked uncomfortable. “My job,” said Safadi, “is to tell you as clearly as possible what my observations of nature are telling me. I’ve told you that, Councilor Quest. Now you must decide what you want to do with that information.

She had set her own course in life and done so successfully. Just hearing that such a thing was possible improved his mood.

Of the Star Trek: The Next Generation future, Captain Picard once said: “The acquisition of wealth is no longer the driving force in our lives. We work to better ourselves and the rest of humanity.” That is the future that we must build together.

These speculations about infinity are a completely new chapter in the history of mathematics of recent years, but it is necessary to recognize that this chapter does not escape paradoxes. Thus, one can define certain numbers that belong, and at the same time do not belong, to specific sets. All problems of this type are caused by a lack of agreement on what existence means. Some believers in set theory are scholastics who would have loved to discuss the proofs of the existence of God with Saint Anselme and his opponent Gaunilon, the monk of Noirmoutiers.

The officer serving in the lab, when not assigned to an away team, was to make sure the information routed from the bridge was properly categorized and cataloged, and reported to Starfleet Command. This was one of the pillars of our civilization: ships all over the quadrant were taking in information and sending it to Starfleet Command, where it became part of the collective knowledge of the Federation.

Everything is impossible; until its not! ~ J.L. Picard