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在Steve Jobs過世後, 他之前在stanford university的演講被許多人重新的溫習,
也帶來了很多啟發!! 雖然許多人可能已經看過了, 不過覺得這場精彩的演講還是值得
在這邊多分享一次, 以免有遺珠之憾!!
整個演講的英文稿也附上:
I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world.
I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to a college
graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That’s it. No big deal. Just three
stories.
The first story is about connecting the dots.
I dropped out of Reed College after the first six months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for
another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?
It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she
decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates,
so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I
popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a
waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: “We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want
him?” They said: “Of course.” My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated
from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final
adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go
to college.
And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as
Stanford, and all of my working-class parents’ savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six
months, I couldn’t see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how
college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had
saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out okay. It was
pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I
dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn’t interest me, and begin dropping in on
the ones that looked interesting.
It wasn’t all romantic. I didn’t have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends’ rooms, I returned
Coke bottles for the 5-cent deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the seven miles across town
every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what
I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give
you one example:
Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout
the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had
dropped out and didn’t have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn
how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between
different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical,
artistically subtle in a way that science can’t capture, and I found it fascinating.
None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But 10 years later, when we were
designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It
was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in
college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since
Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never
dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not
have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking
forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards 10 years later.
Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you
have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something–your
gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the
difference in my life.
My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky–I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when
I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2
billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation–the Macintosh–a year
earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you
started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with
me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge
and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30, I was
out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was
devastating.
I really didn’t know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of
entrepreneurs down–that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard
and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even
thought about running away from the Valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me–I still loved what
I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in
love. And so I decided to start over.
I didn’t see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have
ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner
again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.
During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in
love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer
animated feature film, “Toy Story,” and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a
remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at
NeXT is at the heart of Apple’s current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.
I’m pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting
medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t
lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got
to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to
fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is
great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep
looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any
great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find
it. Don’t settle.
My third story is about death.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: “If you live each day as if it was your last,
someday you’ll most certainly be right.” It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33
years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my
life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “No” for too
many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the
big choices in life. Because almost everything–all external expectations, all pride, all fear of
embarrassment or failure–these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly
important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking
you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed
a tumor on my pancreas. I didn’t even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost
certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to
six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor’s code for
prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you’d have the next 10 years to
tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up, so that it will be as
easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.
I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope
down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few
cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells
under a microscope the doctors started crying, because it turned out to be a very rare form of
pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I’m fine now.
This was the closest I’ve been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades.
Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a
useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death
is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because death
is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is life’s change agent. It clears out the old to
make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually
become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma–which is
living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out
your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They
somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called “The Whole Earth Catalog,” which was one of
the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo
Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960′s, before personal
computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras.
It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: It was idealistic, and
overflowing with neat tools and great notions.
Stewart and his * put out several issues of “The Whole Earth Catalog,” and then when it had run its
course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their
final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself
hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: “Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.” It
was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that
for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.
Thank you all very much.
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