If I designed a computer with 200 chips, I tried to design it

The words of Steve Wozniak—“If I designed a computer with 200 chips, I tried to design it with 150. And then I would try to design it with 100. I just tried to find every trick I could in life to design things real tiny”—speak not merely of machines and circuits, but of a philosophy both ancient and eternal: the pursuit of elegance through simplicity. In this humble confession lies the mind of a true craftsman, a builder whose joy came not from power or praise, but from refinement, from the artistry of removing all that was unnecessary until only the essence remained. Wozniak’s words are a modern echo of the wisdom that has guided creators since the dawn of invention: that mastery lies not in excess, but in precision and restraint.

In the early days of his work at Apple, when computers were still hulking beasts of metal and wire, Wozniak sought to do the impossible—to make them smaller, simpler, and accessible to ordinary people. Each chip in his design was precious, not merely because of cost, but because of principle. To him, engineering was not about adding, but about distilling—about finding the purest form in which an idea could live. “If I could make it with fewer parts,” he said, “I knew I understood it better.” Thus, his pursuit of “tiny” design was not only a technical challenge, but a spiritual one—a test of clarity, patience, and discipline of mind.

The origin of this philosophy can be traced to the ancient law of balance, known to sages and architects alike. The Greeks called it sophrosyne—moderation, harmony, and self-restraint. The same truth guided the builders of the Parthenon, the painters of China, and the engineers of Rome: that perfection is achieved not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to remove. Wozniak’s computers, like the temples of old, followed this divine geometry—the idea that beauty lies in economy, that greatness is born not from abundance, but from clarity of design. His work reminds us that simplicity is not the absence of complexity, but the mastery of it.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, who once said, “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” Leonardo’s sketches, like Wozniak’s circuits, were marvels of elegance—each line purposeful, each form essential. He believed that the true genius of design lay in understanding how nature herself built: never wasting, never overcomplicating, always efficient. Just as Wozniak learned to compress hundreds of chips into a few, Leonardo compressed worlds of thought into a single stroke. Both men shared the same reverence for the art of economy, the sacred power of doing much with little.

Wozniak’s quest to “find every trick” was not trickery at all—it was wisdom in motion. It was the constant questioning of one’s own work: Can this be made simpler? Can this be made purer? It is the same spirit that guided the samurai perfecting his sword, or the poet refining his verse. Each time he cut away another chip, Wozniak was not only building a better machine; he was sculpting himself, shaping his own mind into an instrument of clarity. In this way, his craft became a meditation, a dialogue with perfection itself.

And yet, there is something profoundly human in his pursuit of the “tiny.” For in his shrinking of machines, Wozniak was expanding possibility. He made technology smaller so that humanity might grow larger. By simplifying his circuits, he brought computing power into the hands of the people—children, dreamers, inventors. In his devotion to economy, he sowed the seeds of abundance for generations to come. What he achieved in silicon mirrors what every true innovator achieves in spirit: the ability to compress greatness into simplicity, and thereby make the world more open and alive.

Let this, then, be the teaching: simplify—not only in your craft, but in your life. Strip away the unnecessary until only what matters remains. Whether you build machines, relationships, or dreams, seek not excess but essence. Ask yourself, as Wozniak did, “Can I do this with fewer parts?” Simplify your words until they reveal truth, your possessions until they reveal peace, your ambitions until they reveal purpose. For simplicity is the pathway to mastery, and mastery the gateway to freedom.

In the end, Steve Wozniak’s words remind us that innovation is not the piling up of parts, but the unveiling of order within chaos. To design “things real tiny” is to see with the eyes of the wise—to understand that greatness is not measured by size or grandeur, but by clarity, balance, and grace. Whether in the design of computers or the architecture of one’s soul, the principle is the same: make it smaller, make it cleaner, make it true. And in the purity of that simplicity, you will discover not only perfection—but peace.