Great stories are still just great yarns. News remains the best human drama ever. Technology is not changing the story; it is just changing the way in which we deliver it.
Interpretation
The essence of great stories remains unchanged, but technology alters our methods of sharing them.
Andrew Ross Sorkin emphasizes that the fundamental nature of storytelling, which is rooted in human experience and drama, remains constant, despite advancements in technology. While new mediums may change how we communicate these stories, they do not fundamentally alter the stories themselves, highlighting the enduring power of narrative in human culture.
In practice
During a workshop on digital media, one might say this quote to emphasize the value of traditional storytelling.
Before the web and these highly focused entities, journalists got to decide what was important to tell their audience and educated their readers. Now, journalists have to try and understand what their consumer actually wants to read and what angle they are looking for in order to keep audiences engaged in a highly competitive world.
I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it. But this separation of consciousness is recognized only after a failure of communication, and our first movement is to believe in an undivided being between us.
Asset forfeiture is a mockery of the Bill of Rights. There is no presumption of innocence, no need to prove you guilty (or even charge you with a crime), no right to a jury trial, no right to confront your accuser, no right to a court-appointed attorney (even if the government has just stolen all your money), and no right to compensation for the property that's been taken.
Like sex in Victorian England, the reality of Big Business today is our big dirty secret.
when the sky is as grey as this - impeccably grey, a denial, really of the very concept of colour - and the stooped millions lift their heads, it's hard to tell the air from the impurities in our human eyes, as if the sinking climbing paisley curlicues of grit were part of the element itself, rain, spores, tears, film, dirt. Perhaps, at such moments, the sky is no more then the sum of the dirt that lives in our human eyes.
Space. The continual becoming: invisible fountain from which all rhythms flow and to which they must pass. Beyond time or infinity
Cronshaw stopped for a moment to drink. He had pondered for twenty years the problem whether he loved liquor because it made him talk or whether he loved conversation because it made him thirsty.
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