《My Beginnings》读书笔记

《My Beginnings》读书笔记#

作者: Bill Gates
阅读时长: 5 小时

这是我在微信读书中阅读《My Beginnings》时记录的笔记和摘录。

Epigraph#

The prize is the pleasure of finding the thing out.

Prologue#

And by the time I was in my early teens, my parents had accepted that I was different from many of my peers and had come to terms with the fact that I needed a certain amount of independence in making my way through the world. That acceptance had been hard-won—especially for my mother—but it would play a defining part in who I was to become.

Chapter Four: Lucky Kid#

Without being prescriptive, Dr. Cressey helped me see that (A) my parents loved me; (B) I wouldn’t be under their roof forever; (C) they were actually my allies in terms of what really counted; (D) it was absurd to think that they had done anything wrong.

Chapter Seven: Just Kids?#

He blew up the notion of science as a collection of proven facts to be rotely memorized; science was a way of thinking about the world, an ongoing story of challenging long-held facts and theories. Throughout history, researchers had become famous for discovering that “facts” accepted for generations or centuries were wrong, and for coming up with better ideas.

Something he wrote in the introduction to his own textbook sums up an idea he got across to pretty much all the kids in his classroom: “We seem to forget the true foundation stone of science: the belief that the world makes sense.”

Science grabbed me in part because it fit my need for order and organization and offered the kind of reassuring, satisfying framework I’d already found in math. It also appealed to my hyper-rational sense of the world. At its core, science requires a wildly curious mind that can tame itself with discipline and skepticism. I liked how scientists think, constantly asking themselves, “How do I know?” and “How might I be wrong?”

My Lakeside teachers gave me the gift of an altered perspective: To question what you know—what you think is true—is how the world advances. It was an inherently optimistic message for me at that impressionable age.

He blew up the notion of science as a collection of proven facts to be rotely memorized; science was a way of thinking about the world, an ongoing story of challenging long-held facts and theories. Throughout history, researchers had become famous for discovering that “facts” accepted for generations or centuries were wrong, and for coming up with better ideas.

Something he wrote in the introduction to his own textbook sums up an idea he got across to pretty much all the kids in his classroom: “We seem to forget the true foundation stone of science: the belief that the world makes sense.”

Science grabbed me in part because it fit my need for order and organization and offered the kind of reassuring, satisfying framework I’d already found in math. It also appealed to my hyper-rational sense of the world. At its core, science requires a wildly curious mind that can tame itself with discipline and skepticism. I liked how scientists think, constantly asking themselves, “How do I know?” and “How might I be wrong?”

My Lakeside teachers gave me the gift of an altered perspective: To question what you know—what you think is true—is how the world advances. It was an inherently optimistic message for me at that impressionable age.

Chapter Ten: Precocious#

我买了两张 LP: 亨德里克斯的《Are You Experienced》，因为保罗向我灌输了这首歌很酷，所以拥有它让我很酷；另一张，我主要播放的那张，是多诺万的《The Greatest Hits》。那位流畅的苏格兰歌手和他的曲子 “柔和的黄色” 让我放松了。这是一首适合坐下来思考的好音乐。

Chapter Twelve: Be So Correct#

I’m sure you recognize you have a wonderful talent and we’re all proud of your creativity and diligence in pursuing each idea. Be sure you stand on the highest ethical standard. Bend over backward to look at each facet of your endeavor from every angle. Perhaps I am concerned because I feel temptations are so great to let up a little here and a little there, forgetting our whole goal is being jeopardized. Your experience at Harvard, although you were somewhat exonerated, is still a warning to be above board in every step you take. Having seen lives destroyed because the individual thought the end justified the means, should keep us on our toes. I want you to be alert. Let your work be so correct that in no way can it be construed as improper.

Chapter Thirteen: Micro-Soft#

Computers Are Mostly 计算机大多是 Used Against People Instead Of For People 被用来对付人民，而不是为人民服务 Used To Control People Instead Of To 用来控制人，而不是用来 Free Them 释放他们 Time To Change All That… 是时候改变这一切了……

Epilogue#

I’m not prone to nostalgia, but there are days when I’d like to be thirteen again, making that bargain with the world that if you just go forward, learn more, understand better, you can make something truly useful and new.

Realizing early on that I had a head for math was a critical step in my story. In his terrific book How Not to Be Wrong, mathematician Jordan Ellenberg observes that “knowing mathematics is like wearing a pair of X-ray specs that reveal hidden structures underneath the messy and chaotic surface of the world.” Those X-ray specs helped me identify the order underlying the chaos, and reinforced my sense that the correct answer was always out there—I just needed to find it. That insight came at one of the most formative times of a kid’s life, when the brain is transforming into a more specialized and efficient tool. Facility with numbers gave me confidence, and even a sense of security.

I spent a rare vacation in my early thirties watching films of Richard Feynman teaching physics to university students. I was instantly captivated by the absolute mastery he had of his topic and the childlike wonder he showed in explaining it. I quickly read everything he wrote that I could find. I recognized the joy he derived from uncovering new knowledge and exploring the mysteries of the world—“the pleasure of finding things out,” as he put it. “This is the gold. This is the excitement, the pay you get for all of the disciplined thinking and hard work,” he explained in The Meaning of It All.

If I were growing up today, I probably would be diagnosed on the autism spectrum. In the time of my childhood, the fact that some people’s brains process information differently from others wasn’t widely understood. (The term “neurodivergent” wouldn’t be coined until the 1990s.)

For most of my life, I’ve been focused on what’s ahead. Even now, most days I’m working on hoped-for breakthroughs that may not happen for years, if they happen at all. As I grow older, though, I find myself looking back more and more. Piecing together memories helps me better understand myself, it turns out. It’s a marvel of adulthood to realize that when you strip away all the years and all the learning, much of who you are was there from the start. In many ways I’m still that eight-year-old sitting at Gami’s dining room table as she deals the cards. I feel the same sense of anticipation, a kid alert and wanting to make sense of it all.

I’m not prone to nostalgia, but there are days when I’d like to be thirteen again, making that bargain with the world that if you just go forward, learn more, understand better, you can make something truly useful and new.

Realizing early on that I had a head for math was a critical step in my story. In his terrific book How Not to Be Wrong, mathematician Jordan Ellenberg observes that “knowing mathematics is like wearing a pair of X-ray specs that reveal hidden structures underneath the messy and chaotic surface of the world.” Those X-ray specs helped me identify the order underlying the chaos, and reinforced my sense that the correct answer was always out there—I just needed to find it. That insight came at one of the most formative times of a kid’s life, when the brain is transforming into a more specialized and efficient tool. Facility with numbers gave me confidence, and even a sense of security.

I spent a rare vacation in my early thirties watching films of Richard Feynman teaching physics to university students. I was instantly captivated by the absolute mastery he had of his topic and the childlike wonder he showed in explaining it. I quickly read everything he wrote that I could find. I recognized the joy he derived from uncovering new knowledge and exploring the mysteries of the world—“the pleasure of finding things out,” as he put it. “This is the gold. This is the excitement, the pay you get for all of the disciplined thinking and hard work,” he explained in The Meaning of It All.

If I were growing up today, I probably would be diagnosed on the autism spectrum. In the time of my childhood, the fact that some people’s brains process information differently from others wasn’t widely understood. (The term “neurodivergent” wouldn’t be coined until the 1990s.)

For most of my life, I’ve been focused on what’s ahead. Even now, most days I’m working on hoped-for breakthroughs that may not happen for years, if they happen at all. As I grow older, though, I find myself looking back more and more. Piecing together memories helps me better understand myself, it turns out. It’s a marvel of adulthood to realize that when you strip away all the years and all the learning, much of who you are was there from the start. In many ways I’m still that eight-year-old sitting at Gami’s dining room table as she deals the cards. I feel the same sense of anticipation, a kid alert and wanting to make sense of it all.

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