“Develop products where the interactions of every user improve the site for the next user.

“When times are tight, we want to overfund.

“81 percent of us say we have a book in us. A coincidental 81 percent of young people think they have a business in them.

“Most corporations doing business in the United States pay no federal income taxes, despite trillions of dollars worth of sales.

“One of the chief values of print library research is its poor indexing. By drawing researchers into a wider array of articles, print browsing and perusal may have facilitated broader comparisons and scholarship.

“For a while after UIC was built, its environs were a sort of residential no-man’s-land, dangerous at night and unattractive to the young academics who taught there. Today, assistant professors at UIC generally don’t live there either, but for a different reason: They can’t afford it.

“I’m all for rewarding the originator – provided we don’t do that to the detriment of those enabling and propogating the evolution. Or, indeed, at the cost of restricting that very evolution. We should be encouraging the wider variety of possibilities, the mutations, that evolution allows.

“Analytics are a 25-40% tax on your product development process. They take engineers lots of time and development effort, produce numbers that people argue about, and require additional infrastructure.

Having 1 in 4 engineers working on analytics may seem like a ton, but it helps validate assumptions, pinpoint key features and bottlenecks, model the business during decision-making. At the cost of building fewer features, learn as much as you can so that you can “run up the score” on the features that work.

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.