Watson Fit Quotes

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.

There is a danger there - a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?

The man who takes more pride in the steps to attain the result than the result itself cannot be stopped. The work truly instills the worth.

For once, Watson didn't look the worse for wear. He never fared well on planes across the Atlantic, sleeping fitfully or not at all, but this morning his hair was so extravagantly tousled, I knew he'd spent the whole flight unconscious. Though the red lines near his temple (striated; elastic?) flummoxed me until - "You had on a sleeping mask," I said, delighted beyond all sense. "Tell me, was it one of those with the eyelashes printed on it? Was it silk? Was it your mother's, or -?" He pulled it from his pocket and tossed it to me; I caught it one-handed. Black silk, sans eyelashes. "You're a jerk," he said, laughing. "I bought it in the terminal." "Why would I be a jerk? I'm only asking about your beauty sleep.

You can do ANYTHING you put your mind to!

In a fit of chimp-like primal rage, Ryan pulled the yoke back with all of his strength.

My dreams were fitful and confusing, the players wandering in and out, taking on whatever role suited them at the moment.

Under Armour. "Ahora estamos en el punto donde está ocurriendo un cambio y los consumidores están demandando más de esta información. Esta asociación con IBM nos permitirá aportar valor al consumidor de manera inédita, ya que integramos la tecnología de aprendizaje de máquinas de IBM Watson con los robustos datos de la comunidad Connected Fitness de Under Armour, la comunidad digital más grande del mundo de más de 160 millones de miembros". [4]

There is danger there—a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?

One would think he was going to have his throat cut,” said the Controller, as the door closed. “Whereas, if he had the smallest sense, he’d understand that his punishment is really a reward. He’s being sent to an island. That’s to say, he’s being sent to a place where he’ll meet the most interesting set of men and women to be found anywhere in the world. All the people who, for one reason or another, have got too self-consciously individual to fit into community-life. All the people who aren’t satisfied with orthodoxy, who’ve got independent ideas of their own. Every one, in a word, who’s any one. I almost envy you, Mr. Watson.

Ever since I’d met Edna Parker Watson, I tried to wear suits whenever possible. Among other lessons, that woman had taught me that a suit will always make you look more chic and important than a dress. And not too much jewelry! “A majority of the time,” Edna said, “jewelry is an attempt to cover up a badly chosen or ill-fitting garment.

When one tries to rise above Nature one is liable to fall below it. The highest type of man may revert to the animal if he leaves the straight road of destiny. ... Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?

He sat musing for a little with the phial in his hand, looking at the clear liquid within. “When I have written to this man and told him that I hold him criminally responsible for the poisons which he circulates, we will have no more trouble. But it may recur. Others may find a better way. There is danger there—a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?

The Croft East Dene, Sussex August 11th, 1922 My dear Watson, I have taken our discussion of this afternoon to heart, considered it carefully, and am prepared to modify my previous opinions. I am amenable to your publishing your account of the incidents of 1903, specifically of the final case before my retirement, under the following conditions. In addition to the usual changes that you would make to disguise actual people and places, I would suggest that you replace the entire scenario we encountered (I speak of Professor Presbury's garden. I shall not write of it further here) with monkey glands, or a similar extract from the testes of an ape or lemur, sent by some foreign mystery-man. Perhaps the monkey-extract could have the effect of making Professor Presbury move like an ape - he could be some kind of "creeping man," perhaps? - or possibly make him able to clamber up the sides of buildings and up trees. I would suggest that he grow a tail, but this might be too fanciful even for you, Watson, although no more fanciful than many of the rococo additions you have made in your histories to otherwise humdrum events in my life and work. In addition, I have written the following speech, to be delivered by myself, at the end of your narrative. Please make certain that something much like this is there, in which I inveigh against living too long, and the foolish urges that push foolish people to do foolish things to prolong their foolish lives: There is a very real danger to humanity, if one could live for ever, if youth were simply there for the taking, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our pool world become? Something along those lines, I fancy, would set my mind at rest. Let me see the finished article, please, before you submit it to be published. I remain, old friend, your most obedient servant Sherlock Holmes

One would think he was going to have his throat cut,' said the Controller, as the door closed. 'Whereas, if he had the smallest sense, he'd understand that his punishment is really a reward. He's being sent to an island. That's to say, he's being sent to a place where he'll meet the most interesting set of men and women to be found anywhere in the world. All the people who, for one reason or another, have got too self-consciously individual to fit into community-life. All the people who aren't satisfied with orthodoxy, who've got independent ideas of their own. Everyone, in a word, who's anyone. I almost envy you Mr. Watson.

This, while explaining to the white girls why my pressed hair could not get wet in Portland's rain, while debunking the stereotypes some of them had about people who lived there, the place that was my home, was emotionally exhausting. I spent my adolescence feeling free, loved, and beautiful at home and suffocated, interrogated, and abnormal with these girls. I learned how to contort myself - physically and emotionally - in order to fit into the confined spaces available for me. Black girls could not be too confident, too loud, too smart. Fat girls could be cute but not beautiful, could be the funny sidekick or wise truth-teller in school plays, never leading role or love interest. There was an internal tug-of-war with my self-esteem... These poems healed every aching part of the seven-year-old girl in me. They were confirmation that my mother and all those women who ever told me I was worth something were right. -- "Space to Move Around In" by Renee Watson

I look down at the shirts and see that Jasmine has laid one out all the tags on the women’s sizes. “You didn’t even think about me, which means you didn’t consider anyone who doesn’t fit into the standard sizes, which is messed up.” She whispers the last part so Leidy doesn’t hear us arguing.

Not finding what you’re looking for? We’ve got a bigger selection of plus size options online. Free return if it doesn’t fit.” She gives me a sympathetic look and walks away. Online? Why can’t I try on the clothes here in the store? Why are these two racks hidden in the way back of the store?

Here’s what’s really bad about those shows: They reduce every issue or event to a debate. And this approach spills out of the TV studios and into our lives. We become all about “taking a side” and arguing it fiercely. We then look for facts to fit our assumptions. And we learn to distrust everything that doesn’t fit our version of reality. And all of this simply divides us.

Lay your heart before the Lord and say, “Lord, You Who have given me a heart, give me a pure heart. My heart is good for nothing as it is. It defiles everything it touches. Lord, I am not fit to live with this heart, for I cannot honor You; nor fit to die with it, for I cannot see You. Oh, purge me with hyssop.[57] Let Christ’s blood be sprinkled upon me. Let the Holy Spirit descend upon me. ‘Create in me a clean heart, O God.’ You Who bid me to give You my heart, Lord, make my heart pure, and You shall have it!

The most fundamental objection to Gamow’s scheme is that it does not distinguish between the direction of a sequence; that is, between Thr. Pro. Lys. Ala. and Ala. Lys. Pro. Thr…. There is little doubt that Nature makes this distinction, though it might be claimed that she produces both sequences at random, and that the “wrong” ones—not being able to fold up—are destroyed. This seems to me unlikely. That observation, made in passing, was the first acknowledgment of a theoretical question that is still unanswered: in general terms, what does the cell do with information it possesses on the DNA—and some organisms possess some DNA sequences in thousands of copies—that it does not use to code for proteins? This difficulty brings us face-to-face with one of the most puzzling features of the DNA structure—the fact that it is non-polar, due to the dyads at the side; or put another way, that one chain runs up while the other runs down. It is true that this only applies to the backbone, and not to the base sequence, as Delbrück has emphasized to me in correspondence. This may imply that a base sequence read one way makes sense, and read the other way makes nonsense. Another difficulty is that the assumptions made about which diamonds are equivalent are not very plausible…. [Gamow’s idea] would not be unreasonable if the amino acid could fit on to the template from either side, into cavities which were in a plane, but the structure certainly doesn’t look like that. The bonds seem mainly to stick out perpendicular to the axis, and the template is really a surface with knobs on, and presents a radically different aspect on its two sides…. What, then are the novel and useful features of Gamow’s ideas? It is obviously not the idea of amino acids fitting on to nucleic acids, nor the idea of the bases sequence of the nucleic acids carrying the information. To my mind Gamow has introduced three ideas of importance: (1) In Gamow’s scheme several different base sequences can code for one amino acid…. This “degeneracy” seems to be a new idea, and, as discussed later, we can generalise it. (2) Gamow boldly assumed that code would be of the overlapping type…. Watson and I, thinking mainly about coding by hypothetical RNA structures rather than by DNA, did not seriously consider this type of coding. (3) Gamow’s scheme is essentially abstract. It originally paid lip service to structural considerations, but the position was soon reached when “coding” was looked upon as a problem in itself, independent as far as possible of how things might fit together…. Such an approach, though at first sight unnecessarily abstract, is important. Finally it is obvious to all of us that without our President the whole problem would have been neglected and few of us would have tried to do anything about it.

feel like a lottery winner who can’t handle a life that doesn’t fit me anymore, like a coat that’s too big, too expensive. I caress the silk sheets, stare at the perfectly painted aubergine wall and long for the shabby old life that I loved, that fit me.

Some small towns are built on bloody earth and betrayal. Battle Ground, Washington, twelve miles northeast of Vancouver, near the Oregon state line, is one such place. The town is named for an incident involving a standoff between the Klickitat nation and the US Army. The native people freed themselves from imprisonment in the barracks, but while a surrender was being negotiated, a single shot rang out, killing the Klickitat’s Chief Umtuch. It’s fitting for Michelle “Shelly” Lynn Watson Rivardo Long Knotek’s hometown to be known for a major conflict and a false promise. As it turned out, it was pretty much the way Shelly lived her life.

Summer 1963: I had graduated with HONORS, and was going off to HUNTINGDON COLLEGE in the fall. Several people told me: 'You have to learn to smoke, if you are going to HUNTINGDON.' So---I tried to learn to smoke---and I just could not learn to smoke. Well---when I got to HUNTINGDON---I fit right in-------NOBODY WAS SMOKING!!!!!!

The Case of the Creeping Man” moves Holmes to note the darker implications of man’s evolutionary nature. When a scientist attempts to ward off old age by injecting himself with monkey glands, he transforms himself instead into a hideous apelike throwback. Holmes, surveying the ghastly scene, remarks: “The highest type of man may revert to the animal if he leaves the straight road of destiny.” But the power of modern science to alter that destiny, by preventing “natural” death or extending “unnatural” life, leads to this sober speculation: There is a danger there—a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives…. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?

In our Western culture, there’s a definitive ideal of what the “perfect” body should be for women: tall, slim, feminine and symmetrical. For men, it’s lean with broad shoulders and a thin waist. Anything that doesn’t conform to these visions of a “perfect” physique is cast as bad. Which can feel tough if we don’t fit those stereotypes. But the good news is that we don’t have to.

He'd understand that his punishment is really a reward. He's being sent to an island. That's to say, he's being sent to a place where he'll meet the most interesting set of men and women to be found anywhere in the world. All the people who, for one reason or another, have got too self-consciously individual to fit in to community life. All the people who aren't satisfied with orthodoxy who've got independent ideas of their own. Every one, in a word, who's any one. I almost envy you, Mr. Watson.

I view my body as a gift and don't feel that clothes should define us. My images, with or without clothes, are about art and freedom. My heart hurts from all the judgment in the world. I wish I could fix it so my daughter didn't have to experience this hatred. It's hard being misunderstood in my yoga and fitness.. The judgment can be overwhelming but all I can do is show my journey and let others share theirs. I used to be terrified of being my true self - honest and vulnerable. But I'd rather be judged for my truth than for something 'perfect' that's not who I really am. And this is just part of my story...

Here’s what’s really bad about those shows: They reduce every issue or event to a debate. And this approach spills out of the TV studios and into our lives. We become all about “taking a side” and arguing it fiercely. We then look for facts to fit our assumptions. And we learn to distrust everything that doesn’t fit our version of reality.

Cardinal Bellarmino, whom we shall meet in Chapter 25 as the leader of the Catholic Church’s resistance to Copernicus, also said: ‘God wills that man should in some measure know him through his creatures, and because no single created thing could fitly represent the infinite perfection of the Creator, he multiplied creatures, and bestowed on each a certain degree of goodness and perfection, that from these we might form some idea of the goodness and perfection of the Creator, who, in one most simple and perfect essence, contains infinite perfections.’32 On this reading, Copernicus’ breakthrough was an infinitesimal increase in man’s ascent to God. Rousseau, in Émile, said: ‘O Man! Confine thine

That’s to say, he’s being sent to a place where he’ll meet the most interesting set of men and women to be found anywhere in the world. All the people who, for one reason or another, have got too self-consciously individual to fit into community-life. All the people who aren’t satisfied with orthodoxy, who’ve got independent ideas of their own. Every one, in a word, who’s any one. I almost envy you, Mr. Watson.

One would think he was going to have his throat cut," said the Controller, as the door closed. "Whereas, if he had the smallest sense, he'd understand that his punishment is really a reward. He's being sent to an island. That's to say, he's being sent to a place where he'll meet the most interesting set of men and women to be found anywhere in the world. All the people who, for one reason or another, have got too self-consciously individual to fit into community-life. All the people who aren't satisfied with orthodoxy, who've got independent ideas of their own. Every one, in a word, who's any one. I almost envy you, Mr. Watson." Helmholtz laughed. "Then why aren't you on an island yourself?" "Because, finally, I preferred this," the Controller answered. "I was given the choice: to be sent to an island, where I could have got on with my pure science, or to be taken on to the Controllers' Council with the prospect of succeeding in due course to an actual Controllership. I chose this and let the science go." After a little silence, "Sometimes," he added, "I rather regret the science. Happiness is a hard master–particularly other people's happiness. A much harder master, if one isn't conditioned to accept it unquestioningly, than truth." He sighed, fell silent again, then continued in a brisker tone, "Well, duty's duty. One can't consult one's own preference. I'm interested in truth, I like science. But truth's a menace, science is a public danger. As dangerous as it's been beneficent. It has given us the stablest equilibrium in history. China's was hopelessly insecure by comparison; even the primitive matriarchies weren't steadier than we are. Thanks, l repeat, to science. But we can't allow science to undo its own good work. That's why we so carefully limit the scope of its researches–that's why I almost got sent to an island. We don't allow it to deal with any but the most immediate problems of the moment. All other enquiries are most sedulously discouraged. It's curious," he went on after a little pause, "to read what people in the time of Our Ford used to write about scientific progress. They seemed to have imagined that it could be allowed to go on indefinitely, regardless of everything else. Knowledge was the highest good, truth the supreme value; all the rest was secondary and subordinate. True, ideas were beginning to change even then. Our Ford himself did a great deal to shift the emphasis from truth and beauty to comfort and happiness. Mass production demanded the shift. Universal happiness keeps the wheels steadily turning; truth and beauty can't. And, of course, whenever the masses seized political power, then it was happiness rather than truth and beauty that mattered. Still, in spite of everything, unrestricted scientific research was still permitted. People still went on talking about truth and beauty as though they were the sovereign goods. Right up to the time of the Nine Years' War. That made them change their tune all right. What's the point of truth or beauty or knowledge when the anthrax bombs are popping all around you? That was when science first began to be controlled–after the Nine Years' War. People were ready to have even their appetites controlled then. Anything for a quiet life. We've gone on controlling ever since. It hasn't been very good for truth, of course. But it's been very good for happiness. One can't have something for nothing. Happiness has got to be paid for. You're paying for it, Mr. Watson–paying because you happen to be too much interested in beauty. I was too much interested in truth; I paid too.

I have never been able to pick up a shirt, hold it up to my body, and know it can fit. I have to try everything on. Everything.