Donald A. Norman Quote
AFTER DINNER, WITH A GREAT FLOURISH, my friend Andrew brought out a lovely leather box. Open it, he said, proudly, and tell me what you think. I opened the box. Inside was a gleaming stainless-steel set of old mechanical drawing instruments: dividers, compasses, extension arms for the compasses, an assortment of points, lead holders, and pens that could be fitted onto the dividers and compasses. All that was missing was the T square, the triangles, and the table. And the ink, the black India ink. Lovely, I said. Those were the good old days, when we drew by hand, not by computer. Our eyes misted as we fondled the metal pieces. But you know, I went on, I hated it. My tools always slipped, the point moved before I could finish the circle, and the India ink—ugh, the India ink—it always blotted before I could finish a diagram. Ruined it! I used to curse and scream at it. I once spilled the whole bottle all over the drawing, my books, and the table. India ink doesn’t wash off. I hated it. Hated it! Yeah, said Andrew, laughing, you’re right. I forgot how much I hated it. Worst of all was too much ink on the nibs! But the instruments are nice, aren’t they? Very nice, I said, as long as we don’t have to use them.
AFTER DINNER, WITH A GREAT FLOURISH, my friend Andrew brought out a lovely leather box. Open it, he said, proudly, and tell me what you think. I opened the box. Inside was a gleaming stainless-steel set of old mechanical drawing instruments: dividers, compasses, extension arms for the compasses, an assortment of points, lead holders, and pens that could be fitted onto the dividers and compasses. All that was missing was the T square, the triangles, and the table. And the ink, the black India ink. Lovely, I said. Those were the good old days, when we drew by hand, not by computer. Our eyes misted as we fondled the metal pieces. But you know, I went on, I hated it. My tools always slipped, the point moved before I could finish the circle, and the India ink—ugh, the India ink—it always blotted before I could finish a diagram. Ruined it! I used to curse and scream at it. I once spilled the whole bottle all over the drawing, my books, and the table. India ink doesn’t wash off. I hated it. Hated it! Yeah, said Andrew, laughing, you’re right. I forgot how much I hated it. Worst of all was too much ink on the nibs! But the instruments are nice, aren’t they? Very nice, I said, as long as we don’t have to use them.