Naive But Not Stupid Quotes

The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.

Sounds naive respecting someone who doesn't give a shit about you.

Be honest: Are you surprised that I didn't realize sooner? Are you surprised that it took me so long to even /think/ the word -- death? Dying? Dead? Do you think I was being stupid? Naive? Try not to judge. Remember that we're the same, you and me. I thought I would live forever too.

Sometimes playing stupid opens your eyes to the truth.

Everybody really wanna be the best. I just wanna be a bit better than them.

If what's always distinguished bad writing--flat characters, a narrative world that's clichéd and not recognizably human, etc.--is also a description of today's world, then bad writing becomes an ingenious mimesis of a bad world. If readers simply believe the world is stupid and shallow and mean, then [Bret] Ellis can write a mean shallow stupid novel that becomes a mordant deadpan commentary on the badness of everything. Look man, we'd probably most of us agree that these are dark times, and stupid ones, but do we need fiction that does nothing but dramatize how dark and stupid everything is? In dark times, the definition of good art would seem to be art that locates and applies CPR to those elements of what's human and magical that still live and glow despite the times' darkness. Really good fiction could have as dark a worldview as it wished, but it'd find a way both to depict this world and to illuminate the possibilities for being alive and human in it. Postmodern irony and cynicism's become an end in itself, a measure of hip sophistication and literary savvy. Few artists dare to try to talk about ways of working toward redeeming what's wrong, because they'll look sentimental and naive to all the weary ironists. Irony's gone from liberating to enslaving. There's some great essay somewhere that has a line about irony being the song of the prisoner who's come to love his cage… The postmodern founders' patricidal work was great, but patricide produces orphans, and no amount of revelry can make up for the fact that writers my age have been literary orphans throughout our formative years. We enter a spiritual puberty where we snap to the fact that the great transcendent horror is loneliness, excluded encagement in the self. Once we’ve hit this age, we will now give or take anything, wear any mask, to fit, be part-of, not be Alone, we young. The U.S. arts are our guide to inclusion. A how-to. We are shown how to fashion masks of ennui and jaded irony at a young age where the face is fictile enough to assume the shape of whatever it wears. And then it’s stuck there, the weary cynicism that saves us from gooey sentiment and unsophisticated naïveté. Sentiment equals naïveté on this continent. You burn with hunger for food that does not exist. A U. S. of modern A. where the State is not a team or a code, but a sort of sloppy intersection of desires and fears, where the only public consensus a boy must surrender to is the acknowledged primacy of straight-line pursuing this flat and short-sighted idea of personal happiness.

Rationality belongs to the cool observer, but because of the stupidity of the average man, he follows not reason, but faith, and the naive faith requires necessary illusion and emotionally potent oversimplifications which are provided by the myth-maker to keep ordinary person on course.

Either they're still naive, or stupid.

Because with time blocking out the bad, memory is always bound to be a bit naive and stupidly optimistic.

This is the underside of my world. Of course you don’t want me to be stupid, bless you! you only want to make sure you’re intelligent. You don’t want me to commit suicide; you only want me to be gratefully aware of my dependency. You don’t want me to despise myself; you only want the flattering deference to you that you consider a spontaneous tribute to your natural qualities. You don’t want me to lose my soul; you only want what everybody wants, things to go your way; you want a devoted helpmeet, a self-sacrificing mother, a hot chick, a darling daughter, women to look at, women to laugh at, women to come for comfort, women to wash your floors and buy your groceries and cook your food and keep your children out of your hair, to work when you need the money and stay home when you don’t, women to be enemies when you want a good fight, women who are sexy when you want a good lay, women who don’t complain, women who don’t nag or push, women who don’t hate you really, women who know their job and above all—women who lose. On top of it all, you sincerely require me to be happy; you are naively puzzled that I should be wretched and so full of venom in this the best of all possible worlds. Whatever can be the matter with me? But the mode is more than a little outworn. As my mother once said: the boys throw stones at the frogs in jest. But the frogs die in earnest.

Parents who let teens run around with unearned adult freedoms are naive and stupid.

Normative mind tends to be naive.

Maybe I was being naive. Even stupid. I mean, who would trade Standford for being homeless? [...] But I had to know if I was meant to be a musician. Otherwise I'd spend the rest of my life regretting it. Asking myself... what if?

The new dumb, is now wisdom.

Youngsters tend to save the whole world while their parents struggle to save theirs.

We who hold the pen... and like bricks we use our words... how stupid of us... how naive... to even think for a second... that the pen was ever mightier than the sword.

But I'm not her anymore. I don't even want to be her anymore. That girl was so naive and stupid--the kind of girl who could let something like this happen to her.

Revert me naive!

But I'm not her anymore. I don't even want to be her anymore. That girl who was so naive and stupid -- the kind of girl who could let something like this happen to her. (page 7)

Actually, no. I may be inexperienced compared to your other women, but I'm not naive, nor am I stupid. It occurred to me this morning. You've known me for two years and never so much as asked me to coffee and then all of a sudden, you want access to my panties.' I like your panties,' he said with a feral grin. Ethan! Be serious.

To be naive is to be unaware of how stupid and cruel other people are; but, by some definitions, ignorance is nearly the opposite of naivety in being a kind of cynicism, in being unaware of their intelligence and humanity. It seems to be a normal although unfortunate case that the great many of us consciously abhor ignorance in others yet subconsciously practice it ourselves: as naivety is apparent and well-known to inflict its damage upon oneself; whereas the alternative and the easier, ignorance, its damage upon others.

I'm naive enough to believe that society will be changed by examination of ideas through books and the press and that information can prove to be greater than the dissemination of stupidity.

I knew you could be naive, but I never thought you were stupid. He's an Eye, Sophie. They kill our kind. What part of that don't you understand?" All I could do was blink at him. "And this one is worse than any of the others," he continued, "because he's technically one of us. He's a traitor to his own race, and you just keep letting him in and pushing...everyone else away." He looked up at me, what I saw in his eyes made me flunch. Cal was so good at hiding his emotions that I'd never realized...God, how could I have been such an idiot?

Bureaucracies public and private appear--for whatever historical reasons--to be organized in such a way as to guarantee that a significant proportion of actors will not be able to perform their tasks as expected. It's in this sense that I've said one can fairly say that bureaucracies are utopian forms of organization. After all, is this not what we always say of utopians: that they have a naive faith in the perfectibility of human nature and refuse to deal with humans as they actually are? Which is, are we not also told, what leads them to set impossible standards and then blame the individuals for not living up to them?

I wanted to save myself from that drug that contaminates the body and veins and not from the other drug, you know that drug that enters through your eyes and your private area, the one that settles into your heart to screw it up, that damn drug that naive people call love. The stupid drug that’s just as dangerous and deadly as the one that you find on the streets wrapped up in little packages.

Growing up, I'd been the girl who'd try anything once. I'd thought that attitude made me brave. Turned out, it just made me stupid. Naive and unsuspecting and vulnerable." ~ Tamar

How is digging a hole part of the process of getting out of one? The fact is, the people who can answer that question are so far down some hole that they couldn’t hear the question even if you shouted it.

If Edgar sounded overeager, even rushed, the race was with his own temperament. He placed a premium on savvy. Yet since you could only obtain new information by admitting you didn’t know it already, savvy required an apprenticeship as a naive twit. You had to ask crude, obvious questions…you had to sit still while worldly-wise warhorses…fired withering glances as if you were born yesterday. Well, Edgar was born yesterday for the moment, although his tolerance for being treated liked a simpleton was in short supply. He’d needed to rattle off a multitude of stupid questions before he embraced his next incarnation as an insider. The trouble was that savvy coated your brain in plastic like a driver’s license: nothing more could get in. Hence the point at which you decided you knew everything was exactly the point at which you became an ignorant dipshit.

We somehow have led ourselves to believe that our questions are big enough to encircle life, and that life is small enough to be contained by the answers. The real question might be, are we ignorant or just plain stupid?

This is just what it feels like to get older. It won't be the last time you look back at your life and realize just how stupid or naive or terrible you've been. I'm pretty sure that's a reoccurring thing until death do us part.

If they tell me they want war instead of peace I don't see they're naive, I see they're stupid; stupid to an incredible degree to send young people out to kill other young people they don't even know, who never did anybody any harm.

I came to the party with the sole purpose of getting completely shit-faced, to be perfectly honest. That was it, that was The Plan from the very beginning. I wanted more than anything that ever regrettable, forgetting-everything-you-learned-as-a-toddler kind of wasted that only either the completely stupid venture into or the complete novice (given how naive I was I think I fall more into the latter category). It was a very simple plan, but I like to think the simplest ones tend to be the most effective. The Plan sure as hell didn't involve everything else that happened that night, as all of that occurred quite naturally on its own.

Imagine a toddler repeatedly striking his mother in the face. Why would he do such a thing? It’s a stupid question. It’s unacceptably naive. The answer is obvious. To dominate his mother. To see if he can get away with it. Violence, after all, is no mystery. It’s peace that’s the mystery. Violence is the default.

It seems that the standard protocol for solving most problems is to determine all of the ways that the problems can’t be solved.

I’m just a naive, desperate girl that craves a ridiculous amount of praise and attention and is stupid enough to do anything for it.

If as an adult I have scolded and then silenced the child within me, I contend that I am neither an adult nor a child. Rather, I am just plain ignorant.

Our children aren’t stupid, and they’re not naive. They see when adults around them act hypocritically. They see what we value and believe by our actions, not our words.

More painful than her naivete is the fact that she doesn’t believe herself to be naive. Should you make the mistake of asking her why she’s doing something so stupid, she’ll explain it to you.

You know what its purpose is?” I may know nothing about Were biology, but I’m not stupid, or naive. “Yes.” “Say it.” This is simultaneously mortifying and the most erotic experience of my entire life. “To keep it inside.

The smile that curled his lips was as arrogant as it was beautiful. “You need to accept the fact that you’re Orange and that you’re always going to be alone because of it.” A measure of calm had returned to Clancy’s voice. His nostrils flared when I tried to turn the door handle again. He slammed both hands against it to keep me from going anywhere, towering over me. “I saw what you want,” Clancy said. “And it’s not your parents. It’s not even your friends. What you want is to be with him, like you were in the cabin yesterday, or in that car in the woods. I don’t want to lose you, you said. Is he really that important?” Rage boiled up from my stomach, burning my throat. “How dare you? You said you wouldn’t—you said—” He let out a bark of laughter. “God, you’re naive. I guess this explains how that League woman was able to trick you into thinking you were something less than a monster.” “You said you would help me,” I whispered. He rolled his eyes. “All right, are you ready for the last lesson? Ruby Elizabeth Daly, you are alone and you always will be. If you weren’t so stupid, you would have figured it out by now, but since it’s beyond you, let me spell it out: You will never be able to control your abilities. You will never be able to avoid being pulled into someone’s head, because there’s some part of you that doesn’t want to know how to control them. No, not when it would mean having to embrace them. You’re too immature and weak-hearted to use them the way they’re meant to be used. You’re scared of what that would make you.” I looked away. “Ruby, don’t you get it? You hate what you are, but you were given these abilities for a reason. We both were. It’s our right to use them—we have to use them to stay ahead, to keep the others in their place.” His finger caught the stretched-out collar of my shirt and gave it a tug. “Stop it.” I was proud of how steady my voice was. As Clancy leaned in, he slipped a hazy image beneath my closed eyes—the two of us just before he walked into my memories. My stomach knotted as I watched my eyes open in terror, his lips pressed against mine. “I’m so glad we found each other,” he said, voice oddly calm. “You can help me. I thought I knew everything, but you…” My elbow flew up and clipped him under the chin. Clancy stumbled back with a howl of pain, pressing both hands to his face. I had half a second to get the hell out, and I took it, twisting the handle of the door so hard that the lock popped itself out. “Ruby! Wait, I didn’t mean—!” A face appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Lizzie. I saw her lips part in surprise, her many earrings jangling as I shoved past her. “Just an argument,” I heard Clancy say, weakly. “It’s fine, just let her go.

They didn't beat me up too bad. I could tell they didn't want to put me in the hospital or anything. Mostly they just wanted to remind me that I was a traitor. And they wanted to steal my candy and the money. It wasn't much. Maybe ten bucks in coins and dollar bills. But that money, and the idea of giving it to poor people, had made me feel pretty good about myself. I was a poor kid raising money for other poor people. It made me feel almost honorable. But I just felt stupid and naive after those guys took off.

A year ago, she'd have opened her arms to him and bonded with him before falling in love. A year ago she'd been so secure in who she was an her place in the world, that she'd have known that the love would eventually come with the mating -that nature would work itself out. A year ago, she'd been stupid and naive.

When leaders confront you, allow them. When leaders criticize you, permit them. When leaders annoy you, tolerate them. When leaders oppose you, debate them. When leaders provoke you, challenge them. When leaders encourage you, appreciate them. When leaders protect you, value them. When leaders help you, cherish them. When leaders guide you, treasure them. When leaders inspire you, revere them. When leaders fail you, pardon them. When leaders disappoint you, forgive them. When leaders exploit you, defy them. When leaders abandon you, disregard them. When leaders betray you, discipline them. When leaders regard you, acknowledge them. When leaders accommodate you, embrace them. When leaders favor you, esteem them. When leaders bless you, honor them. When leaders reward you, promote them. When your leaders are weak, uphold them. When your leaders are discouraged, comfort them. When your leaders are disappointed, strengthen them. When your leaders are defeated, encourage them. When your leaders are dejected, revitalize them. When your leaders are strong, approve them. When your leaders are brave, applaud them. When your leaders are determined, extol them. When your leaders are persevering, endorse them. When your leaders are fierce, exalt them. When your leaders are abusive, rebuke them. When your leaders are manipulative, chastise them. When your leaders are corrupt, punish them. When your leaders are evil, imprison them. When your leaders are tyrannical, overthrow them. When your leaders are considerate, receive them. When your leaders are compassionate, welcome them. When your leaders are appreciative, love them. When your leaders are generous, praise them. When your leaders are kind, venerate them. When your leaders are clever, keep them. When your leaders are prudent, trust them. When your leaders are shrewd, observe them. When your leaders are wise, believe them. When your leaders are enlightened, follow them. When your leaders are naive, caution them. When your leaders are shallow, teach them. When your leaders are unschooled, educate them. When your leaders are stupid, impeach them. When your leaders are foolish, depose them. When your leaders are able, empower them. When your leaders are open, engage them. When your leaders are honest, support them. When your leaders are impartial, respect them. When your leaders are noble, serve them. When your leaders are incompetent, train them. When your leaders are unqualified, develop them. When your leaders are dishonest, admonish them. When your leaders are partial, demote them. When your leaders are useless, remove them.

If it's naive to want peace instead of war, better make sure they call me naive. Because I want peace instead of war. If they tell me they want war instead of peace I don't see they're naive, I see they're stupid; stupid to an incredible degree to send young people out to kill other young people they don't even know, who never did anybody any harm...I am naive?! That's insane

I don’t know of anything greater than the Appassionata. Amazing, superhuman music. It always makes me feel, perhaps naively, it makes me feel proud of the miracles that human beings can perform. But I can’t listen to music often. It affects my nerves, makes me want to say nice stupid things and pat the heads of those people who while living in this vile hell can create such beauty.

I’ve inspected your profile. You are not stupid. Misguided, idealistic, naive, certainly, but not stupid. You must know how societies work. You must at least have an inkling. They work on force, power and coercion. People don’t behave themselves because they’re nice. That’s the liberal fallacy. People behave themselves because if they don’t they’ll be punished. All this is known. It isn’t even debatable. Civilisation after civilisation, society after society, species after species, all show the same pattern. Society is control: control is reward and punishment. Reward is being allowed to partake of the fruits of that society and, as a general but not unbreakable rule, not being punished without cause.

At that time I was still naive enough to try to make clear to them the madness of their ideas; in my small circle I talked until my tongue was weary and till my throat was hoarse, and I thought I could succeed in convincing them of the destructiveness of their Marxist doctrine of irrationality; but the result was contrary. It seemed as though the increasing realization of the destructive influence of Social Democratic theories would serve only to strengthen their determination. The more I argued with them, the more I got to know their dialectics. First they counted on the ignorance of their adversary; then, when there was no way out, they themselves pretended stupidity. If all this was of no avail, they refused to understand or they changed the subject when driven into a corner; they brought up truisms, but they immediately transferred their acceptance to quite different subjects, and, if attacked again, they gave way and pretended to know nothing exactly. Wherever one attacked one of these prophets, one's hands seized slimy jelly; it slipped through one's fingers only to collect again in the next moment. If one smote one of them so thoroughly that, with the bystanders watching, he could but agree, and if one thus thought he had advanced at least one step, one was greatly astonished the following day. The Jew did not in the least remember the day before, he continued to talk in the same old strain as if nothing had happened, and if indignantly confronted, he pretended to be astonished and could not remember anything except that his assertions had already been proved true the day before. Often I was stunned. One did not know what to admire more: their glibness of tongue or their skill in lying. I gradually began to hate them.

Statement on Hamas (October 10th, 2023) When Israel strikes, it's "national security" - when Palestine strikes back, it's "terrorism". Just like over two hundred years ago when native americans resisted their homeland being stolen, it was called "Indian Attack". Or like over a hundred years ago when Indian soldiers in the British Army revolted against the empire, in defense of their homeland, it was called "Sepoy Mutiny". The narrative never changes - when the colonizer terrorizes the world, it's given glorious sounding names like "exploration" and "conquest", but if the oppressed so much as utters a word in resistance, it is branded as attack, mutiny and terrorism - so that, the real terrorists can keep on colonizing as the self-appointed ruler of land, life and morality, without ever being held accountable for violating the rights of what they deem second rate lifeforms, such as the arabs, indians, latinos and so on. After all this, some apes will still only be interested in one stupid question. Do I support Hamas? To which I say this. Until you've spent a lifetime under an oppressive regime, you are not qualified to ask that question. An ape can ask anything its puny brain fancies, but it's up to the human to decide whether the ape is worthy of a response. What do you think, by the way - colonizers can just keep coming as they please, to wipe their filthy feet on us like doormat, and we should do nothing - just stay quiet! For creatures who call themselves civilized, you guys have a weird sense of morality. Yet all these might not get through your thick binary skull, so let me put it to you bluntly. I don't stand with Hamas, I am Hamas, just like, I don't stand with Ukraine, I am Ukraine. Russia stops fighting, war ends - Ukraine stops fighting, Ukraine ends. Israel ends invasion, war ends - Palestine ends resistance, Palestine ends. However, I do have one problem here. Why do civilians have to die, if that is indeed the case - which I have no way of confirming, because news reports are not like reputed scientific data, that a scientist can naively trust. During humankind's gravest conflicts news outlets have always peddled a narrative benefiting the occupier and demonizing the resistance, either consciously or subconsciously. So never go by news reports, particularly on exception circumstances like this. No matter the cause, no civilian must die, that is my one unimpeachable law. But the hard and horrific fact of the matter is, only the occupier can put an end to the death and destruction peacefully - the resistance does not have that luxury.

I am going to end up alone," he moaned. "Not in any conceivable universe!" One of Sadie's best qualities is the ability to say "Are you effing insane?" with such sweet conviction and nicer words. "I am going to end up alone in a one-room apartment over a dry cleaner." "A dry cleaner?" "He could have said a bar," I offered. "True," he conceded. Frankie was on a roll. "I am going to end up alone in a one-room apartment over a dry cleaner with a cat. Who bites me." "Oh,Frankie-" "I am going to end up alone in a one-room apartment over a dry cleaner with a cat who bites me and pees in my closet full of moth-eaten sweaters." "Well,maybe," Sadie said, reaching around to hug both of us. "But the sweaters will be Dolce & Gabbana." One of her other fabulous qualities is that underneath the sweet conviction, she does have a sense of humor. Frankie did laugh. Then he gave a sigh that I could feel all the way through me. I knew Sadie did,too. "I liked him," he said, very quietly. "I really did. And I thought he felt the same way. I bent and twisted and distorted everything that happened between us to fit my pretty little picture. God, I believed my own hype. How stupid, how incredibly stupid was that?" "Not stupid." Sadie squeezed. "Hopeful. And if we're not that, what's the point? El? Help me out here." I wanted to.I really did. But all I could think of was the fact that at home, exactly where I'd put it in my bag, which was still exactly where I'd dumped it on the floor, was the evidence that Edward had let me down. I was keeping that to myself, at least for the moment. Twisted it to fit my pretty little picture. I didn't think I could take Frankie's complete lack of surprise that a guy (even a dead one) had let me down-or Sadie's sympathy. Not on top of my own anger. Because,plain and simple,it wasn't okay to look at another woman like that, not when you met the love of your life and gave a big flipped finger to the people around you so you could be with her. Not okay even if she was dead, because I, Ella, really really want to believe that sometimes love does conquer all, and sometimes some things do last foever. Truth: Yes,I really am that naive. "You're perfect," I said to Frankie. And I meant it.

Naivety is only a word in this world because it has to be so.. Innocence twisted into such because of those who steal sweetness and trust How dare you wretch my softness and make words up to mock me- make me feel bad.. to make you feel better, for what you have done with my once pure and exuberant heart 'Oh, that girl, she is naive' laughing, laugh, laughing while it is you who are tricking, and being filthy And all along- I thought how stupid a girl I must be when the truth is that I was a lovely blue sky in your dank world of shadows" -Cheri Bauer (from the book 'The spark of a Muse')

David tried to relax. His gaze drifted to the crowded sidewalks of stressed humanity, comparing them to the idealized versions in billboards and storefronts. Even without hallucinations, it was a horrifying scene, he reflected. And Wharton believed he was going to bring a revolution to all this. “Most people are other people,” he said aloud. “Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” “Which is itself a quotation,” chimed Wharton. “Oscar Wilde, I believe.” “Nothing gets past you.” “Not anymore.” David glanced at the confident figure sitting next to him. He tilted again, “So, how are you going to save all these people? They’re just a bunch of dupes who don’t even realise they’re getting fucked. There’s no golden future for the human race.” “Whoo! We need to get you detoxed – fast! Your mind is toxic!” “The fucks running this planet – they got us all stupid and downtrodden. They’ve got the media, the corporations, the banks. They just fill our troughs and we come a-gathering around, pushing each other about in the mud. They’ve got all the aces … Shit, they print the fucking aces!” “Do you think you’re telling me something new? You’ve got it wrong. I’m telling you something new here.” Wharton faced him and moved closer, almost confrontational. “The guys in charge – the fucks – the fat old dudes in the smoky backroom. They’re sitting on a powder keg, which is this: humanity and its potential – a potential so hard wired, so written into every cell, that it’s destiny. And they’re desperate to avoid anything that might cause a spark.” Light and dark took turns on Wharton’s face as they rolled on. He continued, “We are that spark. … Think small, you’ll be small. It’s time to go beyond all that programming and conditioning. The very fact that this material reality even exists is a fact too wondrous to truly behold. Too wondrous to behold! So, naturally, most of the time, it’s not ‘beheld’.” Despite the hushed tone, he was enjoying himself. “Don’t get made mundane just because of what the system tells you – it’s only the reigning ideology of the day. ‘Naive realism’, we call it. (…)

We base our ideas about the world on our personal experience, and that experience has ingrained the rate of growth of the recent past in our heads as "the way things happen." We're also limited by our imagination, which takes our experience and uses it to conjure future predictions — but often, what we know simply doesn't give us the tools to think accurately about the future. When we hear a prediction about the future that contradicts our experience-based notion of how things work, our instinct is that the prediction must be naive. If I tell you [...] that you may live to be 150, or 250, or not die at all, your instinct will be, "That's stupid — if there's one thing I know from history, it's that everybody dies." And yes, no one in the past has not died. But no one flew airplanes before airplanes were invented either.

I might be sexually naive, but I wasn’t utterly stupid. Or not anymore. That was an I want some sexy time look.

home only to pine over an ex-girlfriend, so he stopped. He apologized, saying a few more things that Catherine once again just nodded her head to, smiling, and before she knew it, she had plans to go see a movie with Dickie the following Friday. It was a date, the first of many. It went like this for two months: Friday night dates. Rides home from school while other girls looked on in jealousy. Long nights parked up at The Point, the low rumble of his car idling away while they made out with the heat blowing on her legs. Him sliding his hands up her skirt. Under her shirt. Her moaning. Her face flushing red. Her toes curling. The Rolling Stones on the radio. Why did he taste so good? Never sex, though. Even when he begged for it, she would refuse. She knew what their relationship really was. It was great and fun and wild and exciting, but she knew it wouldn’t last; he was off to college soon, and she remembered how he felt about being tethered to something familiar. That conversation never left her mind for the duration of their relationship, always reminding her to be ready to lose him. At the time, she was still a virgin, and as much as she loved Dickie she did not wish to give herself fully to someone who would more than likely forget about her within months, if not weeks, of leaving. Catherine was young, but never stupid or naive. She knew how the world worked… even Dickie’s world. What she felt and experienced with him may have been real by her definition, but she understood that that did not make the relationship everlasting or meant-to-be. Their time together had been great and fun and had changed her in ways she would never be able to put into words. She would forever cherish their moments together. Or at least, that’s what she’d thought at the time, before these cherished memories soured. Everything changed the night of the dance. The night he changed. The night she changed, too. It was Dickie’s senior prom. He invited her to go and she happily accepted. She even bought a new dress with the money she’d saved working shifts down at Woolworth’s. The dance was fine and good. They had a blast. They’d even kissed in the middle of the gymnasium during the last slow dance. It had been so romantic. But afterward was a different sort of time. Dickie and some of his friends rented a few rooms at the Heartsridge Motel for a place to hang out after the dance. But it was more than just a place to hang out. It was a place to party, a place to drink alcohol purchased illegally, a place for some of the looser girls to sleep with their dates. She had been to parties with Dickie before, parties with drinking and drugs and where there were rooms dedicated to fooling around. She wasn’t a square. But this was different. This place made her skin crawl. There was a raw energy in the air. She remembered feeling it on her skin. And the fact that it was a motel made the whole scene seem depraved. It just felt off, and she wanted to beg him to go somewhere else. But instead she held her tongue and went along with Dickie. He was leaving soon, after all. Why not appease him? He seemed excited about going. A few of them—all friends of Dickie’s—ended up together in one room, drinking Schnapps, smoking cigarettes, having

Lunch with Fabius. How naive to seek enlightenment on the art of govern ment from a motley collection of intellectuals and actresses! What do the population want? Why have they no enthusiasm for anything? Why do the efforts made on their behalf produce negative opinion-poll results? It is quite bewildering how this man, who certainly didn't get to be Prime Minister without employing some cunning and who must surely know how much sharp practice, ill will, deceit and pride goes into any successful political career, can be so ingenuous about the perverse mechanisms of popular indifference, deploring the apathy and per fidiousness of the masses, their lack of imagination and participation, the absence of a collective myth, etc. (when it is by virtue of this indifference that he and others like him are in power today), deploring the emptiness of the social world apparently without noticing the void which power itself occupies (which is why he fills that void so wonderfully well). You wonder how he can survive two days in this role and this setting. The people are bored? Then give them something to marvel at. Otherwise they will make their own entertainment at your expense. They will seek out something to astonish them in spectacle (the spectacle of the media or of terrorism) if they cannot find it on the political stage. Individuals and peoples want something to marvel at - that remains their great passion. And nothing you have done has amazed them. Shock them by telling them the truth? Rubbish! Truth is extremely dangerous, since the person who tells it is the first to believe it. Now it only takes a politician believing in what he says for the others to stop believing him: that is the specific perversity of the political field. It's no use just telling the truth; you need the ring of truth too. It's no use lying. You need to have the ring of lying. This is what the socialists will have lacked to the end. They will have lied a lot and told the truth a lot, but they will never have known how to do something that had this ring about it. Now, admittedly, you can pull off quite a political stroke by using the truth - and indeed that was Fabius's intention. But you must never believe in the truth of truth. If you do, you lose all its effect. You have to use truth as a challenge, go beyond what needs to be said for it to be strictly true. The truth must astonish; otherwise, it becomes akin to stupidity. That's what produced all the political tribulations of the Greenpeace Affair. If a prime minister doesn't know that, then he has his head in the clouds. And this is the impression Fabius gives: sure of his ambitions and totally ignorant of the immoral ways of the world. I had before me the Divine Left in person.

Liars gain a huge advantage over truth-tellers, you know. Truth has been found to be a terrible weakness, an evolutionary catastrophe. The society that coated itself with lies was found to be a better survival machine. The man who told the truth was extraordinarily naive and stupid. Now the expectation is always of being lied to. Nowadays when one man is talking to another, he knows instinctively he is being lied to and his mind automatically overlays that set of lies with a neutralizing set of lies, leaving behind a kind of truth. But what sort of truth is it that arises exclusively from lies?

Stupid or just naive? I never could work it out. But I know you won’t tell anyone, because who would believe you, my right-hand woman, weren’t in on it?

Long pause. Somehow Stephan immediately knew this was a lie. Jane was interested in having a good time, not in espionage. Her smiling face momentarily appeared in his memory. But it wasn’t customary to ask the KGB for proof. Nevertheless, he asked a stupid question: “And how do you know? She’s never behaved in a strange or suspicious way.” “Well, this is our work. I can’t tell you about our sources. All you need to know is that your friend is an agent of the enemy.” Technically speaking, according to Soviet custom, this makes me a traitor, thought Stephan. Prosecutor, judge, and juror. Three in one. And not to forget, the executioner. Years of training, millions of guinea pigs. What could be his counterargument? He wished this day had never happened. The major was apparently following a familiar routine: “Do you think you can help us?” “Help how?” Stephan was receiving too much information to digest quickly. “We need to make sure that our state secrets remain safe. That the enemy doesn’t infiltrate our ranks and use such a respected family as yours to gain access to classified information.” “But I don’t have access to any secrets!” Stephan said naively. “Your brother does, though.

Simplicity involves coming to the realization that over ninety percent of what consumes our time is doing nothing more than consuming our time.

To this day, it is embarrassment that is the most perplexing emotion I've felt in response to death. I know this might sound strange and, frankly, I find it impossible to even describe. But I felt like a failure. I felt like I'd been caught unaware, like I'd been ambushed. I felt irresponsible somehow, like I'd let my guard down or been naive. I look at old pictures of my family—smiling, happy, and blissfully unaware of the catastrophe that would befall us. And I think, We were so stupid. We were such suckers. How did we not see it coming? Why weren't we prepared? Why didn't we build a bunker or something? Tim likes to tease me because if ever I'm hosting a dinner party and the meal is a bit overdone, I like to announce garishly to the group: "I just want everyone to know that I know the food is burned!" The thought of serving a bad-tasting meal, or having broccoli in my teeth, or of having my pants zipper down without my knowledge is horrifying to me. I don't exactly mind failing, but I like to do it on my own terms, undergirded by my own self-awareness. The thought of being oblivious petrifies me. But death plays by no rules and doesn't care how it might sully your reputation. No amount of self-awareness lessens its sting. It will come for you and the ones you love the most, whether you are oblivious or if you see it coming a million miles away.

When you get stung and feel naive and stupid, remember the bee always fares the worst

It was unforgivably stupid. Naive. He knew it. But each time, blinking against the harsh strobe of the flashes, overwhelmed amid the roar of voices calling his name and telling him to look over here, the realization that his date hadn’t wanted him, really, but rather the dubious perks of his odd, transient fame— Each time, he’d floated outside himself for a moment. Disoriented. Lost.

How could she ever have risked her child’s future, her life, been naive enough to imagine that if she closed her eyes to it, it would all go away? She’d made bad decision after decision. She’d been so stupid and weak.

You can be naive when it comes to love, but don’t be stupid. Love with your whole heart, but keep your eyes open.

Given that Žižek in Less Than Nothing describes “the key question” of philosophy as that of “how thought is possible in a universe of matter,” so that we should focus our efforts on “the very rise of representation or appearing out of the flat stupidity of being” if we are to avoid “the very rise of representation or appearing out of the flat stupidity of being” if we are to avoid “a regression to a 'naive' ontology of spheres or levels,” the issue of whether this project is most radically accomplished by Schelling or Hegel is more than a matter of intra-textual consistency or classico-philological accuracy, but touches the very heart of what Žižek takes to be the program of speculative philosophy.

Mrs Campbell had once said Mungo's forgiveness was biblical, but Jodie didn't care much for the Bible, she thought it was stupid of him to be so easily exploited. She thought it was a little bit sad, a little bit weak. Her brother had all this love and forgiveness for an elfin wee woman who thought about herself first and last and in between. She was a terrible mother. Jodie didn't like to say that about another woman, but she was. She was terrible. Hamish knew it. Jodie knew it. She wondered when Mungo would too.

I didn't know what to protect. He was too quick. And when he found the poker, it all fell away from me. Everything. Every hope I had. Every naive, stupid hope. I learned something in that moment; you're on your own in this world. No one is coming to save you. People don't suddenly change, say they're sorry and begin to treat you with respect. They are a jumble of hurt and pain and they will take it out on whomever they can. I had to save myself. -- The Lost Bookshop

Her guts tightened and her throat closed up. How could she have been so blind, so stupid? So ignorant, so blissfully naive? How could she have gone for years without questioning his odd behavior in the marriage bed, lived with his sharp little gibes and social neglect? She had no answers for those questions except that she had been stupid. Stupid, stupid, stu— “Stop that!” Leftrin took her arm and gently shook it. He shook his head at her as well. “I hate to see you go off like that. Your eyes narrow and you grit your teeth, and I know just what is running in that head of yours. Stop blaming yourself. Someone deceived you and hurt you. You don’t need to take on the burden of that. The man who committed the offense is at fault, not the person he wronged.

But I'm not her anymore. I don't even want to be her anymore. That girl who was so naive and stupid -- the kind of girl who could let something like this happen to her.

I'm not to be messed with, that's the impression I want to give him. I'm not naive or stupid. In fact, I'm not even nice.

Policy is a narrative based on the gullibility of those to whom it will be presented as assumed by the gullibility of those doing the presenting.

Most people feel safe when assume no peeper. That's the magic of holy privacy.

I really thought I could do it. Maybe that’s my problem.” “What?” “That I think I can make something happen just by wanting it enough. Objectively, it’s like...pretty stupid and naive.” “Maybe, but it’s also kind of good, don’t you think?” “Why?” “It’s probably better than thinking that nothing you feel or do can ever make a difference, right? I’d rather believe in something.

Each new dilemma I encounter seems to provide a moral quandary that demands ever-increasing amounts of soul searching. No decision comes in black and white anymore. I suppose that’s because I am just no longer young enough, brazen enough, naive enough, capricious enough, nor stupid enough to believe I have all the answers.

A lot of the situations that we put ourselves in are similar to a cat in a yard full of dogs. We rarely ask ourselves how we got here, (which doesn’t help with the question of how we get out of here), all of which rarely keeps us from finding ourselves in the next yard asking the same questions.

I think of Gabe writing a 300-page tribute to his ex-girlfriend, which will soon be published for all the world to read. I think of Talia, who is apparently back in the picture, or maybe has been in it all along. And Charlie, trying his darnedest to be back in the picture, too, as usual knowing exactly where my tender spots are to probe at. And me, falling for the fantasy that a wedding dress can be some kind of chrysalis, metamorphosing me from a regular person with all my regular person problems into a beautiful butterfly, fit to fly away from it all. How naive I am, how stupid. 

When leaders confront you, allow them. When leaders criticize you, permit them. When leaders annoy you, tolerate them. When leaders oppose you, debate them. When leaders provoke you, challenge them. When leaders encourage you, appreciate them. When leaders protect you, value them. When leaders help you, cherish them. When leaders guide you, treasure them. When leaders inspire you, revere them. When leaders fail you, pardon them. When leaders disappoint you, forgive them. When leaders exploit you, defy them. When leaders abandon you, disregard them. When leaders betray you, discipline them. When leaders regard you, acknowledge them. When leaders accommodate you, embrace them. When leaders favor you, esteem them. When leaders bless you, honor them. When leaders reward you, promote them. When your leaders are weak, uphold them. When your leaders are discouraged, comfort them. When your leaders are disappointed, strengthen them. When your leaders are defeated, encourage them. When your leaders are dejected, revitalize them. When your leaders are strong, approve them. When your leaders are brave, applaud them. When your leaders are determined, extol them. When your leaders are persevering, endorse them. When your leaders are fierce, exalt them. When your leaders are abusive, rebuke them. When your leaders are manipulative, chastise them. When your leaders are corrupt, punish them. When your leaders are evil, imprison them. When your leaders are tyrannical, overthrow them. When your leaders are considerate, receive them. When your leaders are compassionate, welcome them. When your leaders are appreciative, love them. When your leaders are generous, praise them. When your leaders are kind, venerate them. When your leaders are clever, keep them. When your leaders are prudent, trust them. When your leaders are shrewd, observe them. When your leaders are wise, believe them. When your leaders are enlightened, follow them. When your leaders are naive, caution them. When your leaders are shallow, teach them. When your leaders are unschooled, educate them. When your leaders are stupid, impeach them. When your leaders are foolish, depose them. When your leaders are able, empower them. When your leaders are open, engage them. When your leaders are honest, support them. When your leaders are impartial, respect them. When your leaders are noble, serve them. When your leaders are incompetent, train them. When your leaders are unqualified, develop them. When your leaders are dishonest, admonish them. When your leaders are partial, demote them. When your leaders are useless, remove them.

Entertainers are seen by people from all walks of life as some sort of allknowing prophet - if they say, a certain health drink is good, the masses would most naively embrace that health drink in their life - if they say, a certain watch or perfume or handbag is the symbol of elegance, the masses would most blindly run after it - and if they run for office, the masses would most stupidly vote for them, without actually knowing their psychological capacity to run a people and maintain peace.

Imagine a toddler repeatedly striking his mother in the face. Why would he do such a thing? It’s a stupid question. It’s unacceptably naive. The answer is obvious. To dominate his mother. To see if he can get away with it. Violence, after all, is no mystery. It’s peace that’s the mystery. Violence is the default. It’s easy. It’s peace that is difficult: learned, inculcated, earned.

Food-for-thoughts A moment of reflection & remembrance! Life's road signs!! Going back in life, way back, it is amazing that I can vividly remember the signs that was set up in my path! The ones I followed and the ones l ignored, amazing that I can remember all God's way of telling me which direction he chose for me. The ones l ignored, he told me that this is not my way that he designed my life to be, not necessary a bad one and not even a good one, just not the one designed for me to follow. The ones I followed, is also the same, I just followed because it took me to what God set up for me. Did I like the fact that l ignored some or maybe lots of those signs? At the time, I never thought about it in such away, never!! I thought that I just took the decision to ignore or to follow because that is what I want to !! But little that I know that I was totally blind folded to follow what God designed for me which I guess it is called the "God's chosen path". Now, rewinding, I never regret or being proud of my decision at the time of ignoring or choosing a sign, but yes, sometimes I had to face the circumstances of my choice, some hurt a lot, and many other was good for me, or at least that what I felt at the time. We always say, "I did that" , and "I didn't do that", but we forget that we just walking a designed path that we have very little to do with choosing, succeeding or failing. We are so naive and ridiculously stupid to think in such a way. I did believe in this fact a lot and maybe that's why I took roads and ways that anyone in his right mind, will never take because it was very dangerous, risky, and in sometimes life-threatening decisions and roads, however I never had any fear in walking the walk, never!! Always smiling and yes sometimes smiling mixed with tears from the pain, nevertheless, I smiled. Call me crazy, well I don't mind at all ! Now, when going back to what might had happened or the risks I was taking, I honestly say, I was so stupid and crazy to say the least. But again, it was what had been designed for me, and I will do it all over again, if it is in my choice right now to reach what I am in right now, except one thing only, which is the marriage, a bad investment emotionally and financially!! I so much believed and still believing that I just have one life that can end in any moment regardless of what decision I took or didn't take ! if it meant to be getting hurt or the end of my life, so let it be, and it is God's decision and nothing to do with me. Yes, way back, I did and still totally believe in this fact. Well, life is a rollercoaster, the deeper, faster, steeper, and crazier, the more enjoyable it is. Reaching this edge of life, give you a such sensational feelings nothing can surpass. Maybe my believe in God's gave me the power and pleasure to take chances and reach this edge of life. Just leave life in style and without worries and regrets because it will happen regardless!!! Life is always what we make it to be! Or this what we think it is !!