S J Watson Quotes

What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

We’re constantly changing facts, rewriting history to make things easier, to make them fit in with our preferred version of events. We do it automatically. We invent memories. Without thinking. If we tell ourselves something happened often enough we start to believe it, and then we can actually remember it.

It's so difficult, isn't it? To see what's going on when you're in the absolute middle of something? It's only with hindsight we can see things for what they are.

I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy, too. Even if you can only find that happiness without me.

There are memories I am better off without. Things better lost forever.

If you stand up and be counted, from time to time you may get yourself knocked down. But remember this: A man flattened by an opponent can get up again. A man flattened by conformity stays down for good.

I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless. I didn't feel ashamed.

Do you trust me? The question is usually asked before an admission that such trust is misplaced.

I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd fought for you. I was weak and stupid.

I cannot imagine how I will cope when I discover that my life is behind me, has already happened, and I have nothing to show for it. No treasure house of collection, no wealth of experience, no accumulated wisdom to pass on. What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

I am an adult, but a damaged one.

Would you like me to give you a formula for success? It's quite simple, really. Double your rate of failure.

Follow the path of the unsafe, independent thinker. Expose your ideas to the dangers of controversy. Speak your mind and fear less the label of 'crackpot' than the stigma of conformity. And on issues that seem important to you, stand up and be counted at any cost.

I will never abandon you. I love you too much.

I have no choice but to face whatever my reality has become.

With him everything is a test, affection is measured, that given weighed against that which has been received, and the balance, more often than not, disappointing him.

It’s perfectly possible to hold two opposing points of view in the mind at once, oscillating between them.

It’s not life, it’s just an existence, jumping from one moment to the next with no idea of the past, and no plan for the future.

Thoughts race, as if, in a mind devoid of memory, each idea has too much space to grow and move, to collide with others in a shower of sparks before spinning off into its own distance.

There were never going to be any happy endings for me. I know that now. But that is all right.

Is it possible to both want and not want something at the same time? For desire to ride with fear?

This is dying everyday. Over and over.

I could think of nothing, nothing to say, nothing to feel. My mind was empty.

Whatever enjoyment I might have had at the time would disappear overnight like snow melting on a warm roof.

(Thomas J. Watson Sr. of IBM followed the same rule: “I’m no genius,” he said. “I’m smart in spots—but I stay around those spots.”)

And then, when there is nothing else between us but love, we can begin to find a way to truly be together.

these truths are all I have. They are my past. They are what makes me human. Without them, I am nothing. Nothing but an animal.

I am floating, I thought, completely without anchor, at the mercy of the wind.

There were never going to be any happy ending for me. I know that now. But that is all right. That is all right.

Nothing so conclusively proves a man's ability to lead others as what he does from day to day to lead himself.

لقد تسربت سنوات عديدة كالرمال من بين أصابعي ولم تترك أي أثر يدل عليها,لم تعد للدقائق وجود في حياتي ولم أعد أملك الا دقات الساعة لتعلمني أن الوقت يمر ويمضي بلا عودة.

The great accomplishments of man have resulted from the transmission of ideas and enthusiasm.

Wisdom is the power to put our time and our knowledge to the proper use.

I wonder what I would find if I could go back and decipher the layers, if it were possible to delve into my past that way, but realize that, even if it were possible, it would be futile.

I closed my eyes and he kissed my eyelids, barely brushing them with his lips. I felt safe, at home. I felt as if here, against his body, was the only place in which I belonged. The only place I had ever wanted to be. We lay in silence for a while, holding each other, our skin merging, our breathing synchronized. I felt as if silence might allow the moment to last for ever, which would still not be enough.

I am sliding, down,down. Toward blackness, I must not sleep. I must not sleep.I.Must.Not.Sleep.

…I feel like he’s taking advantage of me. Advantage of my illness. He thinks he can rewrite history in any way that he likes and I will never know, never be any the wiser. But I do know. I know exactly what he’s doing. And so I don’t trust him. In the end he is pushing me away, Dr. Nash. Ruining everything.

Goods in any storehouse are useless until somebody takes them out and puts them to the use they were meant for. That applies to what man stores away in his brain, too. —THOMAS J. WATSON, FORMER PRESIDENT OF IBM

أدركت أن الظلام سيخيم قريبا وان الشمس ستغرب وان القمر سيتوسط كبد السماء وبهذا ينتهي يوم آخر وأخسره للأبد!! :(

I am frightened to discover my past. What I have achieved, and what I have not.

The little things. Perhaps it is these trivialities I have been writing down in my book, these small hooks on which my whole life is hung.

ان الناس يغيرون الحقائق علي الدوام,ويعيدون كتابة تاريخهم ليسهلوا الأمور علي أنفسهم ويجعلوها أكثر ملائمة لروايات الأحداث المفضلة لديهم.انهم بفعلون هذا بشكل تلقائي ويخترعون الذكريات من دون تفكير.فان أقنع المرء نفسه بحدوث شئ ما بشكل متكرر بما يكفي لأن يصدقه,فسوف يصدقه فعلا,وهذا ما يجعله يتذكره بعد ذلك.

Pain, or pleasure. I could not tell where one ended and the other began.

Soon I will sleep, and my brain will begin to delete everything. Tomorrow I will go through it all again.

We tell ourselves often enough that something happened, we start to believe it, and then we can actually remember it.

She looks so young, so hungry, her eyes full of possibility, of what is in store for her.

أدركت أنه لم يعد لدي أي طموح بعد الآن,وأنني لم أعد أريد من حياتي سوي أن أشعر بانني انسانة طبيعية وأن أعيش ككل انسان أخر يبني تحربة فوق أخري,وأن يمنح كل يوم يومي التالي شكله ولونه.انني أريد أن أنمو ببطء وأن أتعلم الأشياء وأشكل التجارب.

There was a letter, tucked among the pictures. It was addressed to Santa Claus and written in blue crayon. The jerky letters danced across the page. He wanted a bike, he said, or a puppy, and promised to be good. It was signed, and he had added his age. Four. I do not know why, but as I read it, my world seemed to collapse. Grief exploded in my chest like a grenade. I had been feeling calm - not happy, not even resigned, but calm - and that serenity vanished, as if vaporized. Beneath it, I was raw.

He forgave you though,' said Claire. 'He never held it against you, ever. All he cared about was that you lived, and that you got better. He would have given everything for that. Everything. Nothing else mattered.

Progress? You call this progress?” I was almost shouting now, anger spilled out of me as if I could no longer contain it. “If that’s what it is, then I don’t know if I want it.” The tears were flooding now, uncontrollable. “I don’t want it!” I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless.

I want to sleep. To find a safe place somewhere, and close my eyes, and rest, like an animal. That is what I am. An animal. Living from moment to moment, day to day, trying to make sense of the world in which I find myself.

I couldn't imagine how i would get from here to there. i couldn't imagine living through a whole string of identical days.

Men always say I LOVE YOU as a QUESTION

Good design is good business.

I guess sometimes it's not so much about how long you've known someone, but about what you've been through together.

Charles Wesley's hymns are forceful because they contain so many words which are physical: for him the life of a Christian was to be experienced in the body as well as in the soul.

I step back further, until I feel cold tiles against my back. It is then I get the glimmer that I associate with memory. As my mind tries to settle on it, it flutters away, like ashes caught in a breeze, and I realize that in my life there is a then, a before, though before what I cannot say, and there is a now, and there is nothing between the two but a long, silent emptiness that has led me here, to me and him, in this house.

… as I associated with more and more different types, I realized that to make it, you had to get along with almost everybody. If you dislike the people you work with, you’d better not show it. I learned that to be a good leader, I had to strike a delicate balance.

بينما كنت أتأمل باعجاب أدركت أنها ليست حقيقية.فأنا أعرف أنني لا أتذكر ما حدث فعلا,بل أتذكر الصورة التي رسمتها في ذهني وأنا أقرأ عما حدث,ولهذا,فهذه مجرد ذكري لذكري سابقة.انها ذكريات للذكريات.ان معظم الناس يعودون بذاكرتهم الي سنوات عديدة وعقود مديدة,ولكن الأمر بالنسبة الي لا يتعدي بضع ساعات.

How tempting it must be for him to keep quiet, and how difficult life must be for him, knowing that I carry these jagged shards of memory with me always, everywhere, like tiny bombs, and at any moment one might pierce the surface and force me to go through the pain as if for the first time, taking him with me.

Follow the path of the unsafe, independent thinker. Expose your ideas to the dangers of controversy. Speak your mind and fear less the label of 'crackpot' than the stigma of conformity. And on issues that seem important to you, stand up and be counted at any cost.

To create myself from nothing.

الآن أدرك أنني أحبه,ولطالما أحببته.وان توجب علي أن أتعلم حبه كل يوم,اذا,فليكن ذلك,فهذا هو ما سأفعله.

No treasure house of recollection, no wealth of experience, no accumulated wisdom to pass on. What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

We both pretended to attach no significance to what had happened, and so revealed just how much significance there was.

There is so much,I thought,just under the surface. So many memories, darting like silvery minnows in a shallow stream.

Ich fühlte mich auf einmal wie betäubt. Alles wich zurück, bis in mir nur noch Schmerz übrigblieb und sonst nichts. Schmerz. Auf einen einzigen Punkt konzentriert.

I looked over at him, running in the distance. Another faulty, fucked-up brain in a healthy body.

Two wrongs don't make anything right, but maybe they make things more equal.

We are in a restaurant, smilling, leaning in over a half-eaten meal, our faces flushed with love and thr bite of the sun.

He put his hand on mine. I fell into him, knowing what he would do, what he must do, and he did. He opened his arms and held me, and I let him embrace me. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.

These snatched moments. Kneeling in front of the closet or leaning on the bed. Writing. I am feverish. It floods out of me, almost without thought. Pages and pages. I am here again now, while Ben thinks I am resting. I cannot stop. I want to write down everything. I wonder if this is what it was like when I wrote my novel, this pouring onto the page. Or had that been slower, more considered? I wish I could remember.

Popular film misquotes. “Play it again, Sam”: Casablanca, allegedly, except neither Bogie nor Bergman ever said it. “He’s alive”: Frankenstein doesn’t gender his monster; cruelly, it’s just “It’s alive.” “Elementary, my dear Watson” does crop up in the first Holmes film of the talkie era, but appears nowhere in the Conan Doyle canon.

Everything seems different now. The room I am in looks no more familiar to me than it did this morning when I woke up and stumbled into it, trying to find the kitchen, desperate for a drink of water, desperate to piece together what happened last night. And yet it no longer seems shot through with pain, and sadness. It no longer seems emblematic of a life I cannot consider living. The ticking of the clock at my shoulder is no longer just marking time. It speaks to me. Relax, it says. Relax, and take what comes.

La dejé en el suelo, delante de mí. Y empecé a dudar. No sabía qué quería hacer, si abrirla o no. ¿Qué nuevas sorpresas podría esconder? Puede que, como la memoria misma, contuviera verdades que no podía ni empezar a imaginar. Sueños reales, horrores inesperados. Me invadió el miedo. Pero estas verdades, me dije, son todo lo que tengo. Son mi pasado. Son lo que me hace humana. Sin ellas no soy nada. Solo un animal.

I cannot imagine how I will cope when I discover that my life is behind me, has already happened, and I have nothing to show for it. No treasure house of recollection, no wealth of experience, no accumulated wisdom to pass on. What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

We're wearing masks, all of us, all of the time. We're presenting a face, a version of ourselves, to the world, to each other. We show a different face depending on who we're with and what they expect of us. Even when we're alone it's just another mask, the version of ourselves we'd prefer to be.

certain group of people in the United States tried an experiment. They tried the experiment of making a fortune without working, of making a fortune through the stock exchange. They extended the experiment until it exploded and all went down to earth.  “Aspects of World Trade” Thomas J. Watson Sr. July 31, 1930

Get busy achieving all the things in life you want to achieve", she said, "because one day you'll be fine and the next..." I knew what she meant: Boom! My ambitions would disappear and all I would want to do would be to have children. "It's what happened to me," she said. "It'll happen to you. It happens to everyone.

This wobbly world host to insects and lint and a thousand pithy ways to feel unserious each minute It brings about a great softening of the mind, like the clouded edges of sea glass (this filter you could download and apply) A poultice or an opiate, rigidly individual. Alone and erasing sentences to splinters. (Poem No. 5)

Would you like me to give you a formula for success? It’s quite simply really. Double your rate of failure. You are thinking of failure as the enemy of success. But it isn’t at all. You can be discouraged by failure, or you can learn from it. So go ahead and make mistakes. Make all you can. Because remember, that’s where you’ll find success.

It’s only with hindsight we can see things for what they are.

I think of my sponsor. Rachel. “Addiction is a patient disease,” she said to me once. “It’ll wait for your whole life, if it has to. Never forget that.

Light from Many Lamps, edited by Lillian Eichler Watson

Thomas J. Watson, the former chairman of IBM, said, “Nothing so conclusively proves a man’s ability to lead others as what he does from day to day to lead himself.

I asked for this, I thought, at the same time as I never asked for this. Is it possible to both want and not want something at the same time?

Nothing so conclusively proves a man's ability to lead others as what he does from day to day to lead himself. ~Thomas J. Watson

How will I feel when I look in a mirror and see the reflection of my grandmother?

كل ما استطعت فعله أنني أخذت أراقب بعجز بينما راحت تلك الذكريات تمر أمام عيني مسرعة ثم تختفي بسرعة كما ظهرت.

الحقيقة هي كل ما تبقي لي فهي الماضي الذي يجعلني انسانة حقيقية.انني من دونها لا شئ ولست أكثر من مجرد حيوان بلا ماض ولا تاريخ ولا ذاكرة.

Why did he feel that wanting to make sense of my fractured life meant that I wanted to change it in some way?

His grief is not new. It has had the time to bed down within him, to become part of his foundations, rather than something that rocks them.

There were never going to be any happy endings for me. I know that now. But that is all right.

ان حزنه لم يبد لي جديدا.وحان الوقت حتي تخمد أحزانه وتستقر في أعماقه وتصبح جزءا من الأساس الذس يبني عليه كل حياته,لا أن تصبح سببا في تحطيمها. ان جرحي وحده هو ما ينزف ويتجدد كل يوم من أيام حياتي.

As for the public, the PR man, like the advertising expert and others who deal with people in the lump, including a number of would-be-statesmen and redeemers-at-large, conceive of that body as composed of non-ideographic units which are to be regarded not as ourselves but as, ultimately, gadgets of electrochemical circuitry operated by a push-button system of remote control. In fact, in dealing with the public in a purely technological society, the very notion of self is bypassed by various appeals to an undifferentiated unconscious, such appeals often having little or no relation to the vendible object or idea; in this connection history gives us to contemplate the fact that the psychologist J.B. Watson, the founder of American behaviorism, wound up in the advertising business. So history may become parable.

I saw his eyes go up and he looked past me, toward the door, as if he were watching it, waiting. But there was no one there, it did not open, no one left or came in. I wondered if he was actually dreaming of escape.

En la agenda escribí que era como estar muerta, pero ¿esto? Esto es peor. Tengo la sensación de morir cada día. Necesito sentir que estoy progresando. No puedo imaginarme continuando así mucho más tiempo. Sé que esta noche me dormiré y mañana me despertaré de nuevo sin saber nada, y pasado mañana, y al otro, todos los días de mi vida. No me lo puedo imaginar. No puedo afrontarlo. Esto no es vida, es solo una existencia, saltar de un momento al siguiente ignorando el pasado y sin planes para el futuro. Lo peor de todo es que ni siquiera sé qué no sé. Puede que haya muchas cosas esperando a hacerme daño. Cosas que ni siquiera soy capaz de imaginar.

As a thought experiment, von Neumann's analysis was simplicity itself. He was saying that the genetic material of any self-reproducing system, whether natural or artificial, must function very much like a stored program in a computer: on the one hand, it had to serve as live, executable machine code, a kind of algorithm that could be carried out to guide the construction of the system's offspring; on the other hand, it had to serve as passive data, a description that could be duplicated and passed along to the offspring. As a scientific prediction, that same analysis was breathtaking: in 1953, when James Watson and Francis Crick finally determined the molecular structure of DNA, it would fulfill von Neumann's two requirements exactly. As a genetic program, DNA encodes the instructions for making all the enzymes and structural proteins that the cell needs in order to function. And as a repository of genetic data, the DNA double helix unwinds and makes a copy of itself every time the cell divides in two. Nature thus built the dual role of the genetic material into the structure of the DNA molecule itself.

Le Boucher, the early Claude Chabrol that Hitch, according to lore, wished he’d directed. Dark Passage, with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall—a San Francisco valentine, all velveteen with fog, and antecedent to any movie in which a character goes under the knife to disguise himself. Niagara, starring Marilyn Monroe; Charade, starring Audrey Hepburn; Sudden Fear!, starring Joan Crawford’s eyebrows. Wait Until Dark: Hepburn again, a blind woman stranded in her basement apartment. I’d go berserk in a basement apartment. Now, movies that postdate Hitch: The Vanishing, with its sucker-punch finale. Frantic, Polanski’s ode to the master. Side Effects, which begins as a Big Pharma screed before slithering like an eel into another genre altogether. Okay. Popular film misquotes. “Play it again, Sam”: Casablanca, allegedly, except neither Bogie nor Bergman ever said it. “He’s alive”: Frankenstein doesn’t gender his monster; cruelly, it’s just “It’s alive.” “Elementary, my dear Watson” does crop up in the first Holmes film of the talkie era, but appears nowhere in the Conan Doyle canon.

What is referred to as the cognitive revolution in the sciences has gone through several phases. The first phase was marked by the work of Ivan Pavlov, and later by J.B. Watson, who considered psychology to be the science of behaviour, and whose focus was on ‘visibles’, ‘audibles’ and ‘tangibles’. Later, B.F. Skinner asserted that the mind does not exist, and psychology was concerned merely with behaviour dispositions. Mental events were not visible and objective evidence was available only in the realm of publicly observable behaviour. Though the psychologist William James was interested in the study of consciousness, the domination of behavioural psychology meant that it was assumed that such a project did not have any scientific respectability.