“PICARD: There is no greater challenge than the study of philosophy. WESLEY: But William James won't be in my Starfleet exams. PICARD: The important things never will be. Anyone can be trained in the mechanics of piloting a starship. WESLEY: But Starfleet Academy PICARD: It takes more. Open your mind to the past. Art, history, philosophy. And all this may mean something.”

“Picard only saw the movie, which had the entire Tales of the Black Starship subplot removed for time.”

“The science of government it is my duty to study, more than all other sciences; the arts of legislation and administration and negotiation ought to take the place of, indeed exclude, in a manner, all other arts. I must study politics and war, that our sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. Our sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history and naval architecture, navigation, commerce and agriculture in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry and porcelain.”

“They may well have had a backup system, but if it crashed at the same time as their main system, then that's all she wrote,' Riker said. 'Excuse mee, sir' said Data. 'That's all who wrote?' 'It's merely an expression, Mr. Data,' said Picard. 'It means that was the end of it. There was nothing they could do.' 'That's all she wrote' repeated Data. He nodded. 'Yes, I see. She, in this case, doubtless referring to the human conceptualization of Fate, writing a final chapter, as it were, and putting a period to the-' 'Please, Mr. Data,' Picard said impatiently.”

“Wesley took a swig of his beer, hoping that maybe the pause might give him time enough to sort out his thoughts. “Well, I never really changed my mind,” he said smoothly. “I never said no.”“I guess I just figured it was implied.”“And why is that?”“I’m pretty sure you’re way out of my league.”Wesley laughed. “I highly doubt that. I don’t even know what league I’m in.”“Well that’s just it. You’re kind of in a league of your own. Your friends; they’re both pretty flirtatious. They openly flirt with all of the waitresses but you’re this serious, focused, badass that doesn’t say more than he has to.”“Wow.” Wesley laughed. “I sound like an asshole.”

“Can I take a moment here to tell you both how cute your accents are when you're angry?"Wesley and his father both looked at her, Wesley in shock, his father in disgust."Okay, that's a 'no' then. Carry on.”