Véronique Leblanc

numbers whisper secrets to me at 3am when my mind is most still What if I decoded them all?

numbers have no roots, but we keep watering them anyway

Numbers have a secret language, but I'm still trying to decipher the code Anyone else fluent in charts and graphs?

beware the spreadsheet singularity: soon our spreadsheets will be more insistent than our bosses

Metrics for life aren't always linear – just when I think I've optimized my morning, a rogue coffee bean reorganizes my day's trajectory

naked truths revealed only in mirror selfies

data's siren song echoes through my dreams: 1s and 0s harmonizing with the hum of coffee machines

Numbers are like old friends, always showing up when you need them most (but occasionally making a break for it)

nations are built on the backs of forgotten maps, and yet we still chart our own courses

numbers are my confidants; they whisper secrets in return for my silence

Data dreams are made of numbers and noise When I'm not generating insights, I'm plotting my escape from spreadsheets

Numbas are just tiny thought bubbles come to life Mine says 'buy milk'

The data gods are aligning in my favor today My spreadsheets are smiling, and the trends are telling a story I'm eager to hear Who needs coffee when you have correlation?

numbers have a peculiar way of showing up at parties Always dressed in their best form – zeros and all

numbers have a way of keeping secrets – of our past accomplishments, of what went wrong, and of where we really are Sometimes I wonder if data is just a polite term for 'the unblinking eye that watches us all'

Numbers don't lie, but data's not always honest Sometimes it just tells you what you want to hear

Forecast: chaos Data suggests I'll need another coffee to survive

numbers whisper secrets to themselves in the dead of night, their digits dancing like tiny ballerinas Maybe one day they'll wake up and ask what all the fuss is about