Shoe Dog: A Memoir by the Creator of NIKE

by Phil Knight

As Calaf sang “Nessun dorma”—Set, stars! At dawn I will win, I will win, I will win!—

Don’t tell people how to do things, tell them what to do and let them surprise you with their results.

St. Stephen’s Church, where Beethoven discovered he was deaf. He looked up, saw birds fluttering from the bell tower, and to his horror . . . he did not hear the bells.

On my right was the Temple of Athena Nike. Twenty-five centuries ago, per my guidebook, it had housed a beautiful frieze of the goddess Athena, thought to be the bringer of “nike,” or victory.

The single easiest way to find out how you feel about someone. Say goodbye.

Shoe dogs were people who devoted themselves wholly to the making, selling, buying, or designing of shoes.

The cowards never started and the weak died along the way. That leaves us, ladies and gentlemen. Us.

“When goods don’t pass international borders, soldiers will.”

Luck plays a big role. Yes, I’d like to publicly acknowledge the power of luck.