To Grow in Wisdom:

Vannevar Bush, Information Overload,

and the Life of Leisure
David M. Levy
The Information School
University of Washington
Suite 370, Mary Gates Hall, Box 352840
Seattle, WA 98195
01-206-616-2545

dmlevy@u.washington.edu

ABSTRACT
It has been nearly sixty years since Vannevar Bushs essay, As
We May Think, was first published in The Atlantic Monthly, an
article that foreshadowed and possibly invented hypertext. While
much has been written about this seminal piece, little has been
said about the argument Bush presented to justify the creation of
the memex, his proposed personal information device. This paper
revisits the article in light of current technological and social
trends. It notes that Bushs argument centered around the problem
of information overload and observes that in the intervening
years, despite massive technological innovation, the problem has
only become more extreme. It goes on to argue that todays
manifestation of information overload will require not just better
management of information but the creation of space and time for
thinking and reflection, an objective that is consonant with Bushs
original aims.

1. INTRODUCTION
It has been nearly sixty years since Vannevar Bushs essay, As
We May Think [3], was first published in The Atlantic Monthly1.
Today the article is recognized as a seminal work, one that
foreshadowed, and possibly invented, hypertext, and that laid the
groundwork for the field of information science. Over the last ten
or so years, there have been at least two major efforts to reflect on
the articles influence on high technology: the collection From
Memex to Hypertext edited by Nyce and Kahn [9], which grew
out of the 1987 Hypertext Conference, and the Vannevar Bush
Symposium held at MIT on October 12-13, 1995 on the occasion
of the fiftieth anniversary of the papers publication2. In addition,
the paper has been cited many hundreds of times in various
technical literatures.3 Together, this stream of reflections and
references constitutes a fitting tribute to an extraordinarily
important and influential piece of work.
So much has been written that there would seem to be little more
to say. Thanks to a detailed biography of Bush by G. Pascal
Zachary [14] and reflections in the Nyce-Kahn volume, we now
know a great deal about the circumstances in which Bush wrote
the piece. Thanks to careful attention to the central section of the
paper, we understand how the memex Bushs proposed personal
information device might have looked and operated. And thanks

Categories and Subject Descriptors

H.4.0 General [Information Systems Applications]

General Terms
None

Keywords
Information
memex

overload,

hypertext,

Vannevar

Bush,

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A variant of the original article appeared in Life magazine later

the same year [4]. The original article has been republished a
number of times and is available on the Web, for example at
http://www.csi.uottawa.ca/~dduchier/misc/vbush/awmt.html.
Unfortunately, the version at the Atlantic magazines online site
(http://www.theatlantic.com), once freely available, is now only
available to paid subscribers. Page references in the present
article are to a reprint [5] that includes the text of both the
Atlantic Monthly and the Life versions, and reveals the
differences between them.

See http://www.cs.brown.edu/memex/Bush_Symposium.html.

See [13] for a citation analysis of the original article.

to the reflections of various practitioners in the computer and

information sciences, we can trace the influence of Bushs ideas
on real people and systems.
What has received considerably less attention, however, is the
way Bush framed his proposal. For the essay isnt simply an
exercise in envisioning possible future technologies and systems;
it is an argument for these technologies and systems. What
exactly, though, was the nature of this argument? What was Bush
hoping to achieve by proposing the memex? And to what extent
has the vast, global, digital experiment to which his proposal
contributed succeeded in achieving the ends he identified? It is
the aim of this paper to re-read and analyze the Atlantic Monthly
article in light of current technological and social trends. In this
sense it is meant as a contribution to our historical understanding.
But at the same time, it is hoped that the perspective this analysis
provides can contribute to ongoing and future technological
developments, including the current focus on cyberinfrastructure
and education.
The paper proceeds as follows: Section 2 provides some historical
background on Vannevar Bushs life and work and lays out his
argument for the memex his hope that the memex would solve
the problem of information overload. Section 3 discusses the
immediate historical background for the problem of information
overload the library problem or information problem, as it
was then called and considers why this problem still hasnt been
solved sixty years later. Section 4 provides a different approach to
the problem, as detailed by a contemporary of Bush, a German
philosopher named Josef Pieper. Pieper argued that the reflective
or contemplative dimension of human experience which he
called leisure was being lost and needed to be recovered.
Section 5 further elaborates on this argument and considers how
Bush might have felt about it. The final section frames the
argument as an environmental issue and concludes with some
implications for future social and technological development.

2. AS WE MAY THINK
Vannevar Bush was trained as an electrical engineer. He received
his Ph.D. at MIT, taught there, and in 1931 became its vice
president as well as the dean of its School of Engineering. His
greatest technical contributions came in the area of analog
computing. But Bush mainly made his mark on the world not as a
working engineer or as a teacher but as a skilled administrator and
political operator: he was arguably the first American technocrat.
In 1940, with Americas entry into the war on the horizon, Bush
approached President Roosevelt with a proposal: to create an
organization through which American scientists could develop
new weapon systems and other critical technologies that would
give the Allies the edge over the Axis powers. Roosevelt
approved the plan first called the National Defense Research
Committee, and later the Office of Scientific Research and
Development (OSRD) and Bush oversaw an extensive network
of academic scientists who collaborated with military and
corporate partners. Bush was deeply involved in Roosevelts
decision to authorize the creation of the first atomic bomb. And
based on his wartime successes as a research administrator, he
was one of the first to imagine a peacetime successor to OSRD,
which became the National Science Foundation. During these
intensely productive years, Bush was famous enough to appear on
the cover of the April 3, 1944 issue of Time magazine.

This is a stunning record of achievement, yet today Bush is

probably best remembered, especially within the computer and
information sciences, for the essay he published in the July 1945
issue of The Atlantic Monthly. At the heart of the article is his
proposal for the memex, a device that would allow researchers to
read materials stored in microfilm format and to create associative
indexes, the basic idea of which is a provision whereby any item
may be caused at will to select immediately and automatically
another (p. 103). But in addition to imagining, and possibly
inventing, hypertext, Bush proposed highly compact storage,
head-mounted compact micro-cameras, and voice input devices.
Bushs paper is known to have excited and motivated other
researchers, including Douglas Englebart, Ted Nelson, and Alan
Kay, who went on to develop computational tools in the spirit of
what Bush first imagined. Although these subsequent inventions
were realized by different technological means than Bush first
foresaw, it seems fair to say that much of what he proposed has
come to pass. Storage today is even more compact than Bush
imagined. Head-mounted cameras, and even more radical forms
of wearable computing, now exist. The personal computer,
which might be considered a more powerful realization of the
memex, is everywhere. And the World Wide Web has made
hypertext as ordinary as the television or the telephone.
Bush has been justifiably celebrated, even venerated, for the
influence he exerted on future generations of technologists. The
central section of As We May Think, in which he develops his
idea of the memex is almost certainly the most studied and best
known section of the paper. What has received less attention is
just how Bush frames his proposal, specifically the reasons he
gives for creating the memex. In eight paragraphs at the beginning
and two paragraphs at the end, Bush lays out a clear and powerful
argument, which might be paraphrased as follows:
A devastating period is now coming to an end, a terrible war in
which science and technology have enabled people to deploy
cruel weapons against one another. The survival of the human
race depends on its ability to transcend such behavior and to
grow in the wisdom of race experience. Such wisdom may
perhaps be had by better use of the record of human achievement,
for if people have better access to the record, they would be able
to better review [their] shady past and analyze more completely
and objectively [their] present problems. But there are obstacles
today preventing people from making the best use of the record:
they are bogged down by the amount of information, the
difficulty in accessing it, and its increasingly specialized nature.4
As the war comes to an end, therefore, scientists, whose energies
have been concentrated on aiding the war effort, should now
devote themselves to more peaceful ends. If they were to focus on
developing technologies that removed these information obstacles

Bush expressed it this way: There is a growing mountain of

research. But there is increased evidence that we are being
bogged down today as specialization extends. The investigator
is staggered by the findings and conclusions of thousands of
other workers conclusions which he cannot find time to grasp,
much less to remember, as they appear. Yet specialization
becomes increasingly necessary for progress, and the effort to
bridge between disciplines is correspondingly superficial (pp.
88-89).

(being bogged down by the amount and inaccessibility of

specialized knowledge), they would make a major contribution to
human survival and flourishing.
It was through this argument that Bush attempted to justify the
development of the memex. The future tools he hoped to see were
those that would reduce information overload5 and promote
information synthesis, tools that would allow humanity truly to
encompass the great record and to grow in the wisdom of race
experience. And on a note of cautious optimism he concluded:
man may perish in conflict before he learns to wield that record
for his true good. Yet, in the application of science to the needs
and desires of man, it would seem to be a singularly unfortunate
stage at which to terminate the process, or to lose hope as to the
outcome (p. 107).

3. THE LIBRARY PROBLEM

It might be useful to put Bushs concern with information
overload in some further historical perspective. Bush first began
formulating his proposal for the memex in the 1930s. By this
time, the management of scientific information had already been
recognized as a widespread and largely unsolved problem. By the
end of World War I, according to Colin Burke, improvements in
printing, communications and transportation [had] created a
bundle of opportunities and frustrations that . . . began to be called
the library problem ([2], p. 99). This problem manifested itself
differently to different constituencies. For the general public, the
issue was unequal access to books and the cost of library
materials. For scientists, it was the inability of the traditional
library to serve its most important client, the scientific researcher
([2], p. 100). By the end of World War I scientists were voicing
their frustrations and sought to establish . . . an information
system for science ([2], p. 110). Such a system would be outside
the jurisdiction of librarians.
Bushs proposal in As We May Think can be seen as his
attempt to address the library problem which later came to be
called the information problem by attending to the
information needs of scientists and other researchers. Bush
wanted a fundamental reform of the library, Burke says, to
make it conform to the concepts of the new scientist and
engineers. He looked forward to the time when machines would
allow practicing scientists to take charge of, if not to bypass, the
library ([2], p. 119).6
Sixty years after Bush published his proposal, huge technical
strides have been made. Networked computers and globally
accessible hypertext in many ways exceed anything that Bush
proposed or imagined. Yet it is hard to deny that the specific
5

Bush doesnt use the phrase information overload. A brief

inspection of various publication databases suggests that the
phrase began to be used with some regularity in the 1980s; the
first use found is from 1977.

The word library appears four times in his article, principally

to refer to the collection a user of the memex could have access
to. For example: Consider a future device for individual use,
which is a sort of mechanized private file and library (p. 102);
Any given book of his library can thus be called up and
consulted with far greater facility than if it were taken from a
shelf (p. 103).

problems he wanted to address, information overload and

specialization, have not been solved. The specialization of
disciplines has, if anything, increased, and along with it the
difficulty of bridging across disciplines. Scholars continue to feel
bogged down by the quantity and variety of the literature. Not
only is the scientific and scholarly record immense and growing
rapidly, so too is the record in many other spheres of human
endeavor. In their 2003 report, Varian and Lyman estimate that
the amount of new information stored on paper, film, magnetic,
and optical media has about doubled in the last three years [8],
i.e. between 1999 and 2002. On the face of it, the development of
personal digital information systems and global hypertext seems
not to have solved the problem Bush identified but to have
exacerbated it. What happened?
One obvious answer is that digital tools have enabled the creation
and distribution of information on a vast scale never before
imaginable. Bush never foresaw that the technologies he hoped
would tame the problem might actually contribute to its
intensification. But it could be argued that the sheer amount of
information in the world isnt in and of itself the problem. Rather,
it is the difficulty in gaining access to and managing what is most
relevant. And here, it is clear that digital tools havent kept pace
with the rate of expansion.
But it is possible, and even likely, that superior techniques and
technologies will ultimately make the tasks of information access,
synthesis and management immeasurably easier than they are
today. Yet such a welcome state of affairs still wont necessarily
signal the successful resolution Bush was seeking. For as Bush
himself pointed out, the information problem isnt just the state of
the record (its quantity, volume, or state of organization) but the
possibility of using it. A record, if it is to be useful to science,
he said, must be continuously extended, it must be stored, and
above all it must be consulted (p. 90). While this observation
seems exactly right, it doesnt go far enough. Yes, consulting the
record is essential, but we must also have time to reflect on what
is gleaned from it. But today we are undergoing a huge speedup in
our work and home lives; one of the sad casualties is time to think
and reflect. More of the record is broadly available to us than ever
before, but there is less time to make use of it and specifically to
make use of it with any depth of reflection.

4. THE PROBLEM OF LEISURE

As it happens, at the same time that Bushs article appeared,
another thinker was expressing concern over the loss of reflective
and contemplative time. He too was considering how society
should proceed in the aftermath of the war, albeit from a very
different vantage point. But whereas Bush was an engineer and a
technocrat, Josef Pieper was a philosopher. And while Bush was
writing from the perspective of the victor, the German Pieper was
writing as a member of a vanquished nation just beginning to
address the problems of economic and social reconstruction. Both,
however, were concerned with the challenge of making the
transition to a more peaceful and prosperous world. Each
identified a problem, and although not exactly the same problem,
they bear a sufficient resemblance to suggest that these two men
were seeing some of the same phenomena, if not proposing the
same solution.
In 1948, three years after Bushs article appeared, Pieper
published a small volume in German called Musse und Kult. (The

book appeared in English in 1952 with the title, Leisure: The

Basis of Culture [10], and was recently republished, in 1998, in a
much improved translation [11].) What should Germany be doing
in the immediate aftermath of the war? Pieper asks. Clearly, it
needs to put its house in order, structurally and economically. But
it equally needs to put its entire moral and intellectual heritage
back in order. And he worries that an overemphasis on economic
development, to the exclusion of other human concerns, will
prevent the new German republic from recovering its deeper, lifegiving roots in Western culture.
For Germany, Pieper claims, is in danger of creating a world of
total work. [T]he world of work is becoming our entire world,
he says; it threatens to engulf us completely, and the demands of
the world of work become greater and greater, till at last they
make a total claim upon the whole of human nature. Something
is surely out of balance. What has become of the idea of leisure?
he asks. Leisure is a crucial dimension of human life, and we are
in danger of losing it.
With these remarks, Pieper appears to be worrying that people are
in danger of working themselves into a workaholic frenzy and at
risk of losing their weekends, vacation and recreation time; that
they need and deserve more time off, more breaks, more free
time. It would be natural to understand him in this way because
the word leisure now means freedom from time-consuming
duties, responsibilities, or activities [1]. But to understand Pieper
as saying only this would be to miss the full import of his
argument, which relies on the ancient Greek notion of leisure.
For the Greeks, leisure was the highest good, the ultimate aim of
human life, and work was a lesser, though still necessary, form of
activity. This prioritization was directly reflected in their
language: their only word for work could be translated literally as
not-leisure. Work was what needed to be done for the sake of
something else: spinning wool in order to make clothing, lighting
a fire in order to keep warm, building a house in order to be
sheltered from the elements. Leisure, by contrast, was that which
required no justification beyond itself; philosophy, the arts, and
the celebration of festivals fell under this category for the Greeks
because they were simply an expression of the human spirit and
its true life in the world. It is from this distinction that the modern
notion of the liberal arts is derived; the liberal arts are those free
of any need to justify themselves in terms of utility.
Pieper clearly realized that this reversal of priorities might seem
shocking to his postwar audience, that it might well appear to be a
celebration of laziness and idleness. So he invokes Thomas
Aquinas to argue that leisure, rightly understood and practiced, is
hardly idleness; on the contrary, it is frenetic overwork that
constitutes a form of idleness, and it is overwork or the
restlessness of a self-destructive work-fanaticism ([11], p. 27), as
he so dramatically puts it that is the true moral lapse. Here
Pieper wants to understand idleness not as dawdling or slacking
off in the modern sense, as simply lazily lying about, but rather,
following the medieval scholastics, as a failure to engage fully
and responsibly with oneself and the world. In this older
understanding, idleness or acedia, to use a now largely
forgotten word meant that the human being had given up on
the very responsibility that comes with his dignity: . . . that he
does not want to be what he really, and in the ultimate sense, is
([11], p. 28).

Idleness or acedia, in this understanding, is a disengagement from

reality. Leisure, by contrast, is an openness to reality, to things as
they are, rather than as we wish them to be. Leisure is a form of
stillness, Pieper explains, that is the necessary preparation for
accepting reality; only the person who is still can hear, and
whoever is not still cannot hear. Such stillness as this is not mere
soundlessness or a dead muteness. . . . Leisure is the disposition
of receptive understanding, of contemplative beholding, and
immersion in the real ([11], p. 31). Looking at a world engaged
in postwar reconstruction, Pieper could see how the obsessive
drive to work ever faster and harder might rob people of their
humanity, their responsibility to family and community how
harried and driven workers might be distracted and absent.

5. TIME TO THINK
Coming out of the war, Pieper anticipated a world of too much
work, and of a kind of work that would distance us from our
deepest sources of wisdom and inspiration. At roughly the same
time, Bush anticipated a world of too much information, and he
proposed a technical solution that he hoped would allow the
human race to grow in wisdom. Whatever good may have come
from Bushs essay and it is considerable his ideas do seem to
have played into the scenario Pieper feared. Our new tools enable
us to work longer and harder, and more so than at any time since
Piepers book appeared, we are in a position to understand the
restless and destructive side of work-fanaticism.
Pieper sheds further light on the problem when he applies his
understanding of work and leisure to the nature of human
thinking. The medieval scholastics, he notes, recognized two
modes of thinking, which they called ratio and intellectus. Ratio,
says Pieper, is the power of discursive thought, of searching and
re-searching, abstracting, refining, and concluding, whereas
intellectus refers to the ability of simply looking, to which the
truth presents itself as a landscape presents itself to the eye ([11],
p. 11). The scholastics considered ratio to be a form of work, as
much so as digging a ditch or building a house. Intellectus,
however, was leisurely in the original Greek sense: quiet,
contemplative, reflective. Thinking for the scholastics was
inevitably a mixture of these two modes: hard, directed problemsolving combined with periods of apparent idleness.7
Thinking is also a central preoccupation for Bush he did call his
article As We May Think, after all. His hope was that by
augmenting and perhaps automating the more repetitive aspects of
the human thought process, people could be freed up to pursue
thoughts more creative aspects. The tools he envisioned, and
those we have since created, are superb instruments for ratio for
7

A contemporary philosopher, David Loy, argues that scientific

creativity depends on the successful blending of these two
modes of thought. Rigorous logical thinking is necessary but
not sufficient here; something extra is needed that cannot be
derived mechanically ([7], p. 158). He cites various examples,
including the mathematician Poincar reaching a roadblock in
trying to solve a problem in Fuchsian functions, only to have
the answer come to him while walking by the ocean. Most of
us, I suspect, have experienced times when important thoughts
have welled up from our depths at apparently idle moments.

searching and re-searching, abstracting, refining, and concluding.

Indeed, they are probably the best tools for ratio the world has
ever known. But in the process of creating them, have we failed to
leave room for, let alone to acknowledge, intellectus? Where in
our work life, and in our culture more generally, is there time and
space to reflect and consider, to sit quietly and think?
Bush, I believe, would have understood and largely supported this
argument. He was a practical man, not a philosopher or a
theologian, and he probably would have been dismissive of some
of Piepers language, including phrases like immersion in the
real. But he spoke about the need for leisure time and about the
dangers posed by the loss of reflection. According to his
biographer, G. Pascal Zachary, he jealously guarded his free time.
I think hobbies are necessary for anyone who is compelled to
work under strain, Bush said in 1951 ([14], p. 139). While still
an academic in the 1930s, he worried that university education
was degenerating into the acquisition of shallow bits of
information and forgetting points. ([14], p. 68) The student is
hounded, Bush observed in 1933. His hours are crowded and
closely scheduled; he has little time for reading or reflection, and
he does little such. All but the exceptional students become
automatons. ([14], p. 69) He worried that without time and the
encouragement to reflect more broadly, students would not be
able to acquire, or retain, a sense of the larger whole. (This was
clearly one of the motives behind the invention of the memex: the
desire to counteract the effects of specialization and blinkered
thinking.)
Yet during the 1940s there was a war to be won. Bush believed,
and had good reason to believe, that the fate of the free world
depended on whether or not his coalition of academic scientists,
military men, and government bureaucrats could develop superior
technologies for weapons and for code encryption and decryption.
He saw his job as mobilizing civilian scientists (in Zacharys
words) to apply their talents to military needs, [and to] discard
their leisurely academic pace and rush pell-mell for the finish
line ([14], p. 138). (Under conditions of such extreme urgency, it
is perhaps all the more remarkable that Bush continued to prize
and protect his free time.) Bush clearly saw the war as a necessary
period of extreme mobilization. My guess is that he never
imagined that the sense of urgency would carry on beyond the
war, and he expected that scientists, at least in the academy,
would return to their much cherished and more leisurely pursuit
of truth. In the sixty years since the war ended, however, the
sense of urgency has not only continued but increased. A world of
total work seems closer than ever. And, to a large extent, the
kinds of tools that Bush hoped would free people up for reflection
are being used in ways that diminish that possibility.

furnishings, and policy, provided much needed spaces for quiet

contemplation. In the early twentieth century, however, there was
no apparent reason to define the library problem to include this
concern within its scope.
But today the library problem encompasses more. It isnt simply
about the amount of information, or about organizing and finding
the most relevant information, although these are surely important
concerns. There is an additional dimension to the problem: time
to think, to reflect, to absorb, to muse. I have come to think of
these concerns by analogy with the environmental movement,
which was born in the 1960s with the growing realization that
unchecked urbanization and industrialization were destroying the
earths precious natural balance. The publication of Rachel
Carsons Silent Spring in 1962 [6] and the institution of the first
Earth Day in 1970 were early steps in a global process of
consciousness-raising. Over the past forty or so years, we have
witnessed a huge investment of human energy directed at
research, public discussion, policy-setting, and education. We
now understand that the health of the planet requires the
cultivation and protection of old growth forests, marshlands, and
the like. Elementary school children regularly study their local
ecosystem and take steps to restore it. Decades of study and
intervention have affected the way huge numbers of people think
about the planet.
We are, it seems likely, at the beginning of an analogous
movement, which might be called information environmentalism.
Bombarded by e-mail and cell phone chatter, as well as the 24/7
onslaught of media news, entertainment, and advertisements,
there is a growing recognition that some forms of information,
such as spam, are pollutants. And it has become increasingly clear
that with information, just as with food or other essential
dimensions of life, we can have too much of good thing.8 But if
the analogy to environmentalism is useful, it should lead us to
ask: What are the informational equivalents of marshlands and old
growth forests? What kinds of habitats and modes of being do we
need to cultivate and protect as a counterbalance to the 24/7
barrage? How do we make room, in space and time, for reflection
and contemplation?9
This line of thinking raises questions for technologists and for the
digital library community. Should we now turn our attention to
this problem, and if so, how? Does the traditional librarys
provision of quiet reading rooms and spaces offer any guidance?
Are there other models in our culture, either current or prior, that
8

Herbert Simon, Nobel-prize winner in economics and early

researcher in artificial intelligence, made this point more than
twenty-five years ago when he observed: In a world where
information is relatively scarce and where problems for decision
are few and simple, information is always a positive good. In a
world where attention is a major scarce resource, information
may be an expensive luxury, for it may turn our attention from
what is important to what is unimportant. We cannot afford to
attend to information simply because it is there ([12], p. 13).

In May, 2004 the author organized a conference on

Information, Silence, and Sanctuary to explore these
questions. The conference web site, which includes streaming
audio of a number of the presentations, can be found at
www.ischool.washington.edu/iql.

6. CONCLUSION
For the scientists who identified the library problem in the early
twentieth century, the solution seemed clear enough: to provide
better technical means to access the record outside the jurisdiction
of traditional librarians. An information system for science
would address those library roles and practices they considered
central to their work that werent being adequately handled by
traditional libraries. They focused on the management of
collections. But libraries then played (and continue to play)
another vital role: providing an environment conducive to thought
and reflection. Reading rooms in libraries, through architecture,

might help us think this through? To what extent is it a matter of

providing sanctuary from cyberspace and to what extent can we
envision creating sanctuaries spaces for reflection, for
intellectus in cyberspace? These are pressing questions not just
for digital libraries but for cyberinfrastructure and education in
general. Bush worried as far back as the 1930s about the loss of
reflective time in education. How much more concerned would he
be now, when current technological developments seem only to
have intensified the problem, not just among students but among
faculty and the public at large? Surely something must be done if
we are to promote the growth of wisdom that was Vannevar
Bushs ultimate aim.

[5] Bush, V. As We May Think. In From Memex to Hypertext:

Vannevar Bush and the Mind's Machine, Nyce, J.M. and
Kahn, P., eds. Academic Press, Inc., Boston, 1991, 85-107.

7. REFERENCES

[10] Pieper, J. Leisure: The Basis of Culture. Faber and Faber,

London, 1952.

[1] The American Heritage Dictionary, Fourth Edition. Dell,

New York, 2001.
[2] Burke, C. Information and Secrecy: Vannevar Bush, Ultra,
and the Other Memex. Scarecrow Press, Metuchen, NJ,
1994.
[3] Bush, V. As We May Think. The Atlantic Monthly, 176, 1
(July 1945), 641-649.
[4] Bush, V. As We May Think. Life Magazine 19, 11
(September 1945), 112-114, 116, 121, 123-124.

[6] Carson, R. Silent Spring. Houghton Mifflin, Boston, 1962.

[7] Loy, D. Nonduality. Humanities Press, New Jersey, 1997.
[8] Lyman, P. and Varian, H. R. How Much Information. 2003.
Retrieved from http://www.sims.berkeley.edu/how-muchinfo-2003 on 3/27/05.
[9] Nyce, J. M. and Kahn, P., eds. From Memex to Hypertext:
Vannevar Bush and the Mind's Machine. Academic Press,
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