A Quote by David Linley

My design teachers were teaching us how to mass-manufacture; how to create something, but it's not lasting - it's always about the next trend, it's the next thing. — © David Linley
My design teachers were teaching us how to mass-manufacture; how to create something, but it's not lasting - it's always about the next trend, it's the next thing.
In the course of my movies, the financing and the releasing were always the tough part. Because I loved the creative, I loved the writing, I loved the making of it. Because I guess, I never had the giant blockbuster, I never got that sort of ease for the next one. So the next one was always, "how am I going to do this?" And that thing was sort of always the thing that made me a little chickenshit to go into the next one. The writing of it was great and the making of it was great, but how am I going to release this thing and am I going to find a studio?
My parents were language teachers. They talked about teaching all the time and all their friends were teachers. It was considered a pre-ordained thing that I would go into teaching.
I was always on to the next thing. I didn't celebrate all the little moments in my career that I should have done, I always focused on what was next, how could I do better.
I knew what my times were and how my practices were progressing and how close I was to the goals I had set for the year. I swam hard. I always swam hard. If I didn't, I knew I would pay for it either the next day or the next meet.
I was thinking about Afghanistan's future, Afghanistan's next generation, what we have next. These children who learn how to kill people, how to do jihad, how to behead, how to fire, this would be Afghanistan.
I don't really know how accepted I am. Nothing ever matters to me apart from the people with negative opinions. That's literally it. That always drives me on to the next thing. It's funny, you just focus on them and then the next movie. That's the only thing you're thinking about when it comes out.
Humanity is always looking for the next great world, the next frontier. I wonder how different this world would be if we were content with where we were.
We live in the Age of the Next New Thing; we're assaulted day and night by tastemakers telling us what the next hit will be, the next style, the next cool.
The vast majority of the shuttle program was a success. We learned so much about how a reusable spacecraft interacts with its environment, how it ages-and what to design next time.
The opportunity ahead of us in terms of transforming how we design and build, how we manufacture, is even greater than some of the product innovation that we're going to bring to the table.
If something doesn't turn out as planned, you will ask yourself, 'How did I create that? What was I thinking? What were my beliefs? What did I say or not say? What did I do or not do to create that result? How did I get the other person to act that way? What do I need to do differently next time to get the result I want?'
I've seen so many people - loved ones and colleagues - who jump from one diet to the next, one exercise regimen to the next . I was trying to figure out what were some of the basic things that each of us can build into a lifestyle for good, instead of bouncing from one thing to the next.
A lot of the time, when I'm choreographing, I'm not thinking about what movement look best next to the next movement - I'm actually thinking about what song and what sound sounds right next to the next thing. So kind of choreographing as if I'm always making a mix tape, so to speak.
We're kinda always writing, so it's like we're always thinking about what's next, so that'd be a yes. We're always constantly wanting to get onto the next thing or the new thing.
You know, all is development. The principle is perpetually going on. First, there was nothing, then there was something; then-I forget the next-I think there were shells, then fishes; then we came-let me see-did we come next? Never mind that; we came at last. And at the next change there will be something very superior to us-something with wings. Ah! That's it: we were fishes, and I believe we shall be crows.
I started teaching in '76 and I'd been a photographer at the Geographic for six years. But prior to being at the Geographic I was a teacher. Plus my parents were teachers and my brother and my grandparents. So it was the culture of our family to think about teaching, to talk about teaching, to talk about teachers.
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