Square Pegs Quotes

Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.

You'd be surprised how many people violate this simple principle every day of their lives and try to fit square pegs into round holes, ignoring the clear reality that Things Are As They Are.

Autists are the ultimate square pegs, and the problem with pounding a square peg into a round hole is not that the hammering is hard work. It's that you're destroying the peg.

But then I have always been somewhat of a square peg in a round hole.

He’s not your typical prince, more like a square peg in a round hole, kind of like me. He’s the sort of guy who wouldn’t mind reading side by side on a date.

Round pegs in square holes tend to have dangerous thoughts about the social system and tend to infect others with their discontents.

...you'd be surprised how many people violate this simple principle every day of their lives and try to fit square pegs into round holes, ignoring the clear reality that Things Are As They Are. We will let a selection from the writings of Chuang-tse illustrate: Hui-tse said to Chuang-tse, "I have a large tree which no carpenter can cut into lumber. Its branches and trunk are crooked and tough, covered with bumps and depressions. No builder would turn his head to look at it. Your teachings are the same - useless, without value. Therefore, no one pays attention to them." ... "You complain that your tree is not valuable as lumber. But you could make use of the shade it provides, rest under its sheltering branches, and stroll beneath it, admiring its character and appearance. Since it would not be endangered by an axe, what could threaten its existence? It is useless to you only because you want to make it into something else and do not use it in its proper way.

When we learn to work with our own Inner Nature, and with the natural laws operating around us, we reach the level of Wu Wei. Then we work with the natural order of things and operate on the principle of minimal effort. Since the natural world follows that principle, it does not make mistakes. Mistakes are made–or imagined–by man, the creature with the overloaded Brain who separates himself from the supporting network of natural laws by interfering and trying too hard. When you work with Wu Wei, you put the round peg in the round hole and the square peg in the square hole. No stress, no struggle. Egotistical Desire tries to force the round peg into the square hole and the square peg into the round hole. Cleverness tries to devise craftier ways of making pegs fit where they don’t belong. Knowledge tries to figure out why round pegs fit into round holes, but not square holes. Wu Wei doesn’t try. It doesn’t think about it. It just does it. And when it does, it doesn’t appear to do much of anything. But Things Get Done. When you work with Wu Wei, you have no real accidents. Things may get a little Odd at times, but they work out. You don’t have to try very hard to make them work out; you just let them. [...] If you’re in tune with The Way Things Work, then they work the way they need to, no matter what you may think about it at the time. Later on you can look back and say, "Oh, now I understand. That had to happen so that those could happen, and those had to happen in order for this to happen…" Then you realize that even if you’d tried to make it all turn out perfectly, you couldn’t have done better, and if you’d really tried, you would have made a mess of the whole thing. Using Wu Wei, you go by circumstances and listen to your own intuition. "This isn’t the best time to do this. I’d better go that way." Like that. When you do that sort of thing, people may say you have a Sixth Sense or something. All it really is, though, is being Sensitive to Circumstances. That’s just natural. It’s only strange when you don’t listen.

People going in the wrong direction will get like that. Round pegs just don't fit in square holes.

You mean,' Captain Penderton said, 'that any fulfilment obtained at the expense of normalcy is wrong, and should not be allowed to bring happiness. In short, it is better, because it is morally honourable, for the square peg to keep scraping around the round hole rather than to discover and use the unorthodox square that would fit?'…'I don't agree

Language is the square hole we keep trying to jam the round peg of life into. It's the most insane thing we do.

Over the years most of my peers had come to hate me—I never understood why. I guess I was just different and, like dogs, they could smell it. So I never had many friends.

Liberty to be inefficient and miserable. Freedom to be a round peg in a square hole.

Freedom to be a round peg in a square hole.

I’m a perfectly normal Aspie girl. I just feel broken because I’m trying to fit into a nonautistic world. I’m a square peg trying to squeeze myself into a round hole.

Unless the hole is MEANT to be square,' I said with a sudden erudition that surprised me, 'in which case, all the round pegs are the ones that are wrong, and if the ROUND hole is one that is not meant to be square, then the square ones will, no, hang on--' 'Shame,' said the historian, 'and you were doing so well.

I spent many years being a square peg and trying to bash myself into a round hole.

And yet, you’d be surprised how many people violate this simple principle every day of their lives and try to fit square pegs into round holes, ignoring the clear reality that Things Are As They Are.

Art3mis also ran her own vidfeed channel, Art3mivision, and I always kept one of my monitors tuned to it. Right now, she was airing her usual Monday evening fare: an episode of Square Pegs. After that would

I shove round pegs in square holes.

The lonesome dark. That's what Jack called a night like this. When you were distanced from everything and everybody. Out on your own and there was nobody to care if you were happy or sad. If you lived or died. The lonesome dark hadn't existed in the old days. That was something people invented. Like time. Parcel up the days, parcel up the seasons. Add a minute here, a day there when it doesn't quite fit. Trim the square peg so that you could slide it into the round hole. In the old days the night was as open as the day. It wasn't a better place to hide because there was nothing to hide from. You weren't outside because there was no in.

Put your feelings out there to the other person. Let time, the universe, and destiny run its course. Don’t overstate your feelings to other person and don’t force the square peg.

It’s Square Pegs,” Georgie said, “plus My So-Called Life, plus Arrested Development.” If Seth were here, he’d add, “Plus some show that people actually watched.” And

When we can’t fit a square peg into a round hole, we’ll usually blame the peg—when

Rather, there is friction between the speaker’s square peg and the listener’s round hole, and that friction itself conveys information in a parallel stream.

For every round peg society forces into a square hole, another brick is laid, building the walls that will eventually close us off from the possibility of living with purpose and passion.

She’s too much like him in temperament. Married couples should complement each other, and not merely double their losses. There’s much to be said for the square peg in the round hole, as the Cubist told the Vorticist.

These kinder and gentler people never really cared much for individuals. They were too interested in the big-picture issues of the day, forcing square reality pegs into the round theoretical holes of how the world was supposed

So you're the reason Qhuinn was in such a bad mood tonight." "It's got nothing to do with me. Qhuinn is usually in a bad mood." "People going in the wrong direction will get like that. Round pegs just dont fit in square holes.

It was an old hunter in camp and the hunter shared tobacco with him and told him of the buffalo and the stands he'd made against them, laid up in a sag on some rise with the dead animals scattered over the grounds and the herd beginning to mill and the riflebarrel so hot the wiping patches sizzled in the bore and the animals by the thousands and the tens of thousands and the hides pegged out over actual square miles of ground the teams of skinners spelling one another around the clock and the shooting and shooting weeks and months till the bore shot slick and the stock shot loose at the tang and their shoulders were yellow and blue to the elbow and the tandem wagons groaned away over the prairie twenty and twenty-two ox teams and the flint hides by the hundred ton and the meat rotting on the ground and the air whining with flies and the buzzards and ravens and the night a horror of snarling and feeding with the wolves half-crazed and wallowing in the carrion. I seen Studebaker wagons with six and eight ox teams headed out for the grounds not hauling a thing but lead. Just pure galena. Tons of it. On this ground alone between the Arkansas River and the Concho there were eight million carcasses for that's how many hides reached the railhead. Two years ago we pulled out from Griffin for a last hunt. We ransacked the country. Six weeks. Finally found a herd of eight animals and we killed them and come in. They're gone. Ever one of them that God ever made is gone as if they'd never been at all. The ragged sparks blew down the wind. The prairie about them lay silent. Beyond the fire it was cold and the night was clear and the stars were falling. The old hunter pulled his blanket about him. I wonder if there's other worlds like this, he said. Or if this is the only one.

When you draw up a player, scouts have a feel for what they want to see,” Sanders told me. “Prototypical standards. Dustin went against the grain in some of those areas, starting with his size.” When we can’t fit a square peg into a round hole, we’ll usually blame the peg—when

Plans are fucking useless because life will always jack that shit up. I speak from experience. Stop trying to force guys to fit your plans. Men are square pegs, and while they're all about the round hole, they're never going to stop being square. Either embrace the square or find a new one.

We don't try to force things to go the way we think they should. We give up trying to fit square pegs into round holes. Instead, we yield ourselves, trusting that, even if we do not like what we hear, we are safe to surrender to the larger context of our lives, trusting ultimately that all is well. Herein lies inner peace.

There was something called liberalism (...) Liberty to be inefficient and miserable. Freedom to be a round peg in a square hole.

Failing well—that is, staying calm through adversity and recognizing what can be learned from mistakes—is a foundation of success in a variety of fields.

A year is plenty of time to fit in, right? Like a square peg is going to fit into a round hole if you just give it time? You could say that when I arrived here in the middle of my seventh-grade year I settled into a well-defined niche that was purely my own and remains so in eighth grade. The niche of a minuscule, mouthy Mohawk misfit. And nothing is going to change that.

The laces, untied, the socks won't match. I won't know what to wear and when to wear it and I am rubbish at the small talk required to fit into places I've never bothered to fit into. There are square pegs that spend their lives trying to squeeze into round holes, but I wasn't even given four straight sides, I am shapes when none are required, I am a million wrongs stuffed into something I never asked if it was right. I am this, and I've never been that, I've no plans to remedy the broken bits.

Diagnoses—labels—also help connect people with resources that may often be useful. My caveats are reserved for those all-too-common situations in which parents, teachers, and medical professionals are quick to label someone as “disordered” (whatever that means) when the real problem is a mismatch between a child and a given environment.

The little room has a slot for a window, the bright sunlight squaring through no bigger than a peg. I stand on my tiptoes to see out of it, and feel a support beneath me as Lucien picks me up by the waist with his broad hands and lifts. He smirks up at me, "Is that any better?" "A little." I feign disinterest, peering through the window.

They want to find work they’re passionate about. Offering benefits and incentives are mere compromises. Educating people is important but not enough—far too many of our most educated people are operating at quarter-speed, unsure of their place in the world, contributing too little to the productive engine of modern civilization, still feeling like observers, like they haven’t come close to living up to their potential. Our guidance needs to be better. We need to encourage people to find their sweet spot. Productivity explodes when people love what they do. We’re sitting on a huge potential boom in productivity, which we could tap into if we got all the square pegs in the square holes and round pegs in round holes. It’s not something we can measure with statistics, but it’s a huge economic issue. It’s a great natural resource that we’re ignoring.

Growing up in church, we were taught that Jesus was the answer to all our problems. We were taught that there was a circle-shaped hole in our heart and that we had tried to fill it with the square pegs of sex, drugs, and rock and roll; but only the circle peg of Jesus could fill our hole. I became a Christian based, in part, on this promise, but the hole never really went away. To be sure, I like Jesus, and I still follow him, but the idea that Jesus will make everything better is a lie. It's basically biblical theology translated into the language of infomercials. The truth is, the apostles never really promise Jesus is going to make everything better here on earth. Can you imagine an informercial with Paul, testifying to the amazing product of Jesus, saying that he once had power and authority, and since he tried Jesus he's been moved from prison to prison, beaten, and routinely bitten by snakes? I don't think many people would be buying that product. [...] It's hard to imagine how a religion steeped in so much pain and sacrifice turned into a promise for earthly euphoria.

Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.

Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do. —Steve Jobs, Apple’s “Think Different” ad, 1997

In other words, when you feel love, that means that the way you are seeing the object of your attention matches the way the Inner You sees it. When you feel hate, you are seeing it without that Inner Connection. You intuitively knew all of this, especially when you were younger, but gradually most of you were worn down by the insistence of those older and self-described “wiser” others who surrounded you as they worked hard to convince you that you could not trust your own impulses. And so, most of you physical Beings do not trust yourselves, which is amazing to us, for that which comes forth from within you is all that you may trust. But instead, you are spending most of your physical lifetimes seeking a set of rules or a group of people (a religious or political group, if you will) who will tell you what is right and wrong. And then you spend the rest of your physical experience trying to hammer your “square peg” into someone else’s “round hole,” trying to make those old rules—usually those that were written thousands of years before your time—fit into this new life experience. And, as a result, what we see, for the most part, is your frustration, and at best, your confusion. And, we also have noticed that every year there are many of you who are dying, as you are arguing about whose set of rules is most appropriate. We say to you: That overall, all-inclusive, never-changing set of rules does not exist—for you are ever-changing, growth-seeking Beings.

It was an old hunter in camp and the hunter shared tobacco with him and told him of the buffalo and the stands he’d made against them, laid up in a sag on some rise with the dead animals scattered over the grounds and the herd beginning to mill and the riflebarrel so hot the wiping patches sizzled in the bore and the animals by the thousands and tens of thousands and the hides pegged out over actual square miles of ground and the teams of skinners spelling one another around the clock and the shooting and shooting weeks and months till the bore shot slick and the stock shot loose at the tang and their shoulders were yellow and blue to the elbow and the tandem wagons groaned away over the prairie twenty and twenty-two ox teams and the flint hides by the ton and hundred ton and the meat rotting on the ground and the air whining with flies and the buzzards and ravens and the night a horror of snarling and feeding with the wolves half crazed and wallowing in the carrion. I seen Studebaker wagons with six and eight ox teams headed out for the grounds not haulin a thing but lead. Just pure galena. Tons of it. On this ground alone between the Arkansas River and the Concho there was eight million carcasses for that’s how many hides reached the railhead. Two year ago we pulled out from Griffin for a last hunt. We ransacked the country. Six weeks. Finally found a herd of eight animals and we killed them and come in. They’re gone. Ever one of them that God ever made is gone as if they’d never been at all.

Think Different was a slogan used by Apple in 1997.6 Part of the campaign included a commercial known as The Crazy Ones. The narration goes like this:   Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.   It’s easy to dismiss this campaign as grandiose, hyperbolic, and idealistic. But it’s not. Big changes are usually the result of a bunch of little changes strung together. That’s how big changes happen. Thinking differently doesn’t guarantee we’ll change the world, but it gives us a better chance. And any change we bring about could potentially sow the seeds of a bigger change in the future. Don’t trivialize your impact. Most of us don’t think beyond what we know, or what’s expected of us. It’s hard to think different. But if we train ourselves to do it, it starts to come naturally.

Carve the peg by looking at the hole.' Eddie looked at me blankly and I explained, 'An old Korean saying. It means, Do things to fit the circumstances.

We are supposed to be different. Do not try to put round pegs in square holes. When people look at us, believe in yourself.

Don’t try to pound them into your framework like square pegs into round holes.

India is not a country that lends itself well to organisation and punctuality, so to try to incorporate any system to the contrary is like trying to force a square peg into a round hole and will only result in frustration or an arterial embolism.

The reason we recoil from this is that we have in our day started by getting the whole picture upside down. Starting with the doctrine that every individuality is 'of infinite value,' we then picture God as a kind of employment committee whose business it is to find suitable careers for souls, square holes for square pegs. In fact, however, the value of the individual does not lie in him. He is capable of receiving value. He receives it by union with Christ. There is no question of finding for him a place in the living temple which will do justice to his inherent value and give scope to his natural idiosyncrasy. The place was there first. The man was created for it. He will not be himself till he is there. We shall be true and everlasting and really divine persons only in Heaven, just as we are, even now, coloured bodies only in the light.

A misfit is like the round peg that cannot fit into the square hole or the running river that just can’t stay still.

The enclosure next to the dingoes held Graham the crocodile. Wes, Steve, and other staff battled the flood in Graham’s home. One man stood on the fence to spot the croc. He had to shout to Wes and Steve as they cleared the fence line inside the enclosure in waist-deep, dark waters. With the vehicle spotlights casting weird shadows, he had to scope out the murky water and try to discern the crocodile from among the floating bits of debris. Once the backup man had the crocodile pegged, he kept a close eye on him. If Graham submerged, Wes and Steve had to be warned immediately. The spotter worked hard to keep a bead on Graham. Steve and Wes were synchronized with their every move. They had worked together like this for years. They didn’t even have to speak to each other to communicate. There was no room for error as the amount of time spent in Graham’s enclosure was kept to a minimum. They jumped into the enclosure, cleared on, two, three armloads of debris, then jumped back out and re-evaluated the situation. Graham’s fence line had a bow in it, but it wasn’t in any danger of buckling. Steve and Wes were doing a good job, and there was no need for me to be there with them. It was more urgent for me to keep the dingo fence line intact next door. Graham’s female, named Bindi, was nesting, and this added another dangerous dimension to the job, since Graham was feeling particularly protective. The men were also keenly aware that nighttime meant croc time--and Graham would be stalking them with real intent. They reached down for their three armloads of debris. Steve scooped up his first load, flung it out, and gathered his second. Suddenly, Wes slammed into the fence with such force that his body was driven in an arc right over the top of Steve. It only took a split second for Steve to realize what had happened. As Wes had bent over to reach for an armload of debris, he had been hit from behind by more than twelve feet of reptile, weighing close to nine hundred pounds. Graham grabbed Wes, his top teeth sinking into Wes’s bum, his bottom teeth hooking into the back of Wes’s thigh, just above his knee. The croc then closed his mouth, exerting that amazing three thousand pounds per square inch of jaw pressure, pulling and tearing tissue as he did. The croc hit violently. Wes instinctively twisted away and rolled free of Graham’s jaws, but two fist-sized chunks were torn from his backside. The croc instantly swung in for another grab. Wes pushed the lunging croc’s head away, but not before Graham’s teeth crushed through his finger. They crashed back down into the water. Wes screamed out when he was grabbed, but no one could hear him because of the roar of the storm. In almost total darkness, Steve seized a pick handle that rested near the fence. He turned toward the croc as Graham was lining Wes up for another bite. Wes was on his side now, in water that was about three feet deep. He could see the crocodile in the lights of a Ute spotlight that shone over the murk--the dark outline of the osteodermal plates along the crocodile’s back. As Graham moved in, Wes knew the next bite would be to his skull. It would be all over. Wes braced himself for the inevitable, but it didn’t come. Steve reached into the water and grabbed Graham’s back legs. He didn’t realize that Graham had released Wes in preparation for that final bite. He thought Graham was holding Wes under the water. Steve pulled with all his strength, managing to turn the crocodile around to focus on him. As Graham lunged toward Steve, Steve drove the pick handle into the crocodile’s mouth and started hammering at his head. Wes saw what was happening and scrambled up the fence. “I’m out mate, I’m out,” Wes yelled, blood pouring down his leg. Steve looked up to see Wes on the top of the fence. He realized that even though Wes was wounded, he was poised to jump back down into the water to try to rescue his best mate.

They say "the taste of the pudding is in the eating," but that doesn't apply to "a square peg in a round hole". If the peg is driven by hunger to give and desire to fill, and the hole on the other hand is moved by thirst to receive and purpose to fulfil, then a deep knowledge of the reason for existence, a mutual understanding of roles, and the wisdom to effectively carry out those roles are very key, if we must have a round peg in a round hole, or a square peg in a square hole. But then again, who cares about "shape" in desperation?!

The judges believed Uber and Lyft to be more powerful than they were willing to admit, but they also conceded that the companies did not have the same power over employees as an old-economy employer like Walmart. “The jury in this case will be handed a square peg and asked to choose between two round holes,” Judge Chhabria wrote. Judge Chen, meanwhile, wondered whether Uber, despite a claim of impotence at the center of the network, exerted a kind of invisible power over drivers that might give them a case. In order to define this new power, he decided to turn where few judges do: the late French philosopher Michel Foucault. In a remarkable passage, Judge Chen compared Uber’s power to that of the guards at the center of the Panopticon, which Foucault famously analyzed in Discipline and Punish. The Panopticon was a design for a circular prison building dreamed up in the eighteenth century by the philosopher Jeremy Bentham. The idea was to empower a solitary guard in the center of the building to watch over a large number of inmates, not because he was actually able to see them all at once, but because the design kept any prisoner from knowing who was being observed at any given moment. Foucault analyzed the nature and working of power in the Panopticon, and the judge found it analogous to Uber’s. He quoted a line about the “state of conscious and permanent visibility that assures the automatic functioning of power.” The judge was suggesting that the various ways in which Uber monitored, tracked, controlled, and gave feedback on the service of its drivers amounted to the “functioning of power,” even if the familiar trappings of power—ownership of assets, control over an employee’s time—were missing. The drivers weren’t like factory workers employed and regimented by a plant, yet they weren’t independent contractors who could do whatever they pleased. They could be fired for small infractions. That is power. It can be disturbing that the most influential emerging power center of our age is in the habit of denying its power, and therefore of promoting a vision of change that changes nothing meaningful while enriching itself. Its posture is not entirely cynical, though. The technology world has long maintained that the tools it creates are inherently leveling and will serve to collapse power divides rather than widen them.

I was still very much embroiled in the racist politics of the National Front, living a double-life in which I wrote hate-filled propaganda during the day and read the love-filled pages of Chesterton and Lewis at night. I was not aware of any contradiction, at least at first, and sought to bring the two warring viewpoints together by a process of Orwellian doublethink, which is defined in Nineteen Eighty-four as “the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one’s mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them.”1 Throughout the early to mid-eighties I became very adept at doublethink, endeavoring to squeeze the square peg of my Christian reading into the round hole of my racist ideology. As my knowledge of Christianity grew larger and my commitment to racial nationalism diminished in consequence, the strain of squeezing an ever larger peg into an ever-shrinking hole would eventually become impossible. My days of doublethink were numbered.

The importance of self-discovery and cocreation doesn’t stop with purpose. They are just as essential for making sense of challenges and for developing solutions that are likely to be adopted, adaptable, and successful. What is standard in most organizations is importing best practices or imposing practices from above. The assumption that a best practice will work everywhere is just too convenient to resist. So is the assumption that local context and people, though important, will not matter enough to make the difference. Plus, best practices fit nicely with the deep-seated notion that reinventing the wheel is a waste of time and money. Unfortunately, importing or imposing best practices usually involves trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. Context, culture, and people do matter more than we like to admit, and resistance inevitably emerges when we discount them.

Evaluate the demands in your child’s life (at home and at school)—and find at least one “cognitive unicycle” that may be sabotaging him or her. Then, if you can, get rid of it.

I’ve had many occasions since that time to appreciate this timely advice. For me, the hardest part of learning always boils down to figuring out why I should care. Other people’s expectations matter to me, but they rarely clinch the deal. I need to build up my own reasons to engage. But once I jump over that hurdle, I’m good to go. I

I made my decision as an informed adult—so deliberately informed that I ended up taking a whole course in pharmacology at Harvard, where I wrote my term paper on the neural mechanisms of stimulants and their impact on cognition and behavior (and, incidentally, it’s so boring you would need stimulants to read it).

We are the square pegs that do not neatly fit into the round holes of life without taking a battering.

It is received wisdom that you can't put a square peg in a round socket. As is common with received wisdom, this isn't entirely true. It is quite possible to put a square peg in a round socket if you are very stupid, are very wilful, or just don't like the square peg very much.

People could force themselves to change, basically stuffing a square peg into a round hole, but the core person usually remained the same.

The handful of popcorn must be smaller than your mouth Don’t take large fistfuls of popcorn and push and shove them into your mouth like a toddler forcing a square peg into a round hole. If popcorn is spilling back into the feed-bucket or onto your lap and the floor around you, then you’re taking too much. I realise it’s dark and no one can see, but that’s no reason to suddenly start eating like a bulimic possum. Slow down, take smaller ‘handfuls’ and chew. With your mouth closed, obviously.

I wish someone had told me that there wasn’t something wrong with me and that I shouldn’t be trying to make it right; that I should stop trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. I wish someone had told me that I wasn’t like everyone else not because I was defective, but because I was designed for other things. Being different might seem like a curse, but the important part is that it’s also a blessing. I wish someone had told me to stop trying to fix the curse part and start figuring out the blessing part.

When humans see a creature in broad daylight, it makes them uneasy. We’re too much for them—too tall, too strong, too confident, too creative, too powerful, too different. They try very hard to push our square pegs into their round holes all day long. At night it’s a bit easier to dismiss us as merely odd.

We Believe WE BELIEVE that childhood is a time to foster wonder, creativity, and discovery through play and exploration. WE BELIEVE that children learn because they want to, not because they’re forced to. And WE BELIEVE in letting them learn at their own pace. WE BELIEVE in giving children an abundance of opportunities, time, and access to beauty—like art, music, literature, nature, and their own imaginations. WE BELIEVE this path isn’t just for childhood but for a lifetime of pursuing their own interests, responding to life and not bells, and building a life based on purpose, not perfection. We are the misfits, the renegades, the square pegs in round holes. But we are not alone. We have each other. And we are in this TOGETHER.

A rant is the product of someone attempting to defend the belief that a round peg is a square hole and a square hole is a round peg in order to defend the opinion that each fit the other and can be used interchangeably. But this requires that we explain that all of the damaged holes and broken pegs are neither.

Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” ― Steve Jobs

Love, family, and organizational leadership is not a competition, it’s a collaboration. We have to choose our partners and teammates wisely to reach common goals and objectives. There can be no square pegs in round holes. We must know and recognize what fits to avoid fits and complications. There is zero time for unshared vision and undermining.

She beamed. “Perhaps the best of the lot! He has a title—he is a baron. He has never been wed but he has several children. His home is quite nice, apparently, it is in Sussex, and he has a pleasing income! I believe it is two thousand a year.” She waited. He stared, appearing close to an apoplexy. “So he is a rake?” “You have bastards!” “I am a rake! Next.” She choked. “Next?” “Amanda is not marrying a rake. Her husband will be loyal to her.” “Then maybe you should consider de Brett? He is very handsome and I am sure that he might fall in love with Amanda!” “Who is Ralph Sheffeild?” Cliff ignored her. She had saved the best for last. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Sheffeild. “He was knighted during the war for his valor, he is the youngest son of an earl, the family is very wealthy, and he can marry as he chooses. He is not a rake. If he is taken with Amanda, it would be perfect!” “How do you know he is not a rake?” “I know his reputation.” “He must be a rake, or he would be wed.” “I feel certain he is not a rake,” she said quickly. “If he were a rake, the gossip would be all over the ton.” “Does he have a mistress?” “Not that I know of.” “Then he must prefer men.” Cliff smiled in triumph. “What a leap to make!” She was aghast. “He is too perfect. Something is wrong with him. If it isn’t that preference, perhaps he gambles!” “He doesn’t gamble.” She had to control her laughter now. She had no idea if Sheffeild gamed. “And Cliff, he likes women. I have met him personally, I am certain.” Cliff folded his arms across his chest and stared. “Something is wrong with this one, I can feel it. What aren’t you telling me?” “I have told you everything. He is perfect for Amanda!” He tore the paper not in two, but in shreds. Then he smiled, letting the scraps drift to the floor. “Cliff!” she gasped. “What is wrong with Sheffeild?” “No one is perfect,” he retorted. “He is hiding something.” “You cannot reject everyone!” “I can and I will, until I find the right suitor. Make me another list,” he ordered, walking away. She couldn’t resist. She took a book from the shelf and threw it, so it hit him square in the back. He turned. “What was that for?” “Oh, let’s just say I am going to enjoy watching you taken down a peg or two. And by the by, we are all rooting for Amanda.” He simply looked at her, clearly clueless as usual.

Inspiration is when you find the right theme, one which you really like; that makes the work much easier. Intuition, which is also fundamental to writing fiction, is a special quality which helps you to decipher what is real without needing scientific knowledge, or any other special kind of learning. The laws of gravity can be figured out much more easily with intuition than anything else. It’s a way of having experience without having to struggle through it. For a novelist, intuition is essential. Basically it’s contrary to intellectualism, which is probably the thing that I detest most in the world—in the sense that the real world is turned into a kind of immovable theory. Intuition has the advantage that either it is, or it isn’t. You don’t struggle to try to put a round peg into a square hole.

Diagnosed ill and off-kilter, poisoners, dreamers, madmen, lunatics, loners, sad ones, bad ones, star pegs in square holes, movers, shakers, mass debaters, tokers, pokers, instigators, conformity haters, subterfuge vessels and assassins of the vassals who lord over free and intelligent men with a dollar held high so that we jump until we die and know not of the pleasures of this life and the freedom of a soul unrestrained from the prison where the only fate is to hang.

I'm the crazy one. The misfit, the rebel, the troublemaker, and the round peg in the square hole. "Because I see things differently.

Now that we've opened our minds to breaking barriers in hiring, it's time to zero in on a pervasive myth that holds sway over most hiring departments: the 'Perfect Fit'. You've seen it—the job postings calling for someone who fits a particular mold, like a square peg for a square hole. The truth? This notion of a perfect fit is a mirage that can cost you dearly in the long run.

In English, the word wisdom is always positive. Hence you have to do a lot of spinning and twisting to make this square peg fit a round hole. However, in the Semitic mind, wisdom can have either a positive or negative connotation. Sometimes the word wisdom which in Aramaic is khekmtha, can idiomatically mean stupidity, just the opposite of what we think of when we hear the word wisdom. Like in English, some still say something like “That movie was bad,” but he really means it was great. In this passage, Jesus is using a similar idiom in the Aramaic and says: “Since your arguments are so inconsistent, it is a clear indication of your stupidity.” Or, to put his words in less formal English, Jesus would have said, “You guys are so off the wall. Like that has got to be the most stupid argument I have ever heard yet.

Kurt Fischer, my mentor and colleague at Harvard, where he is the director of Harvard University’s Mind, Brain, and Education program, goes so far as to say that today’s schools essentially fail about 80 percent of students. Sure, kids get through. Yet simply surviving is not a high enough bar for our educational system—not by a long shot. Worse still, our schools are often downright damaging in the long term for children who by temperament are prone to question authority—the kinds of kids who can’t help but think differently, who like to take risks, and who represent America’s best hope to innovate its way to a better future. Unfortunately, instead of focusing on changing an obviously broken educational context, we have to date largely put the blame on our hardworking teachers—and perhaps even more so on our children, millions of whom are themselves treated as broken because our system cannot deal with natural learning variability.

I’d “own” my screw-ups and crimes, for the simple reason that other people’s annoyance and even contempt was much better than their pity and rejection. Playing the outlaw at least made me feel I had some control.

Of course we're going to work, even if I'm a round peg and he's a square hole - I don't care, I'll shave down the edges of myself to keep him.

Narrowing her eyes, Claire fought the overwhelming urge to kick him in the shin. Feeling the need to knock him down a peg, she coolly reminded, “On the ice, I told you an apology would not make any difference.” Squaring to face him, feeling something unpleasant surge in her gut, she tried to make him toil, starve, and move. “I want one now.” He was somewhat surprised, slowly standing from his chair, towering over her. When it seemed he was only going to loom, Claire chose to walk away, but Shepherd began to lower and the anger all but fell off her face. He got on his knees. They were almost eye to eye when Shepherd said, “Claire O’Donnell, I am sorry.” “Gods dammit,” Clare snarled under her breath, moving past him to flop back into the oversized chair, confident she’d lost another battle. Swiveling, he faced her and leaned over, caging her with his arms. “Did I not grovel properly?

Many reasons have been put forward by sociologists, historians, and psychologists to explain the undeviating worship of group living and group thinking in America. James Bryce credited American conformity to uniform political institutions in federal, state, and municipal government. Everywhere schools, libraries, clubs, amusements, and customs were similar. "Travel where you will," he wrote, "you feel that what you have found in one place that you will find in another." Above all, there was the rapid advance in industrial science. In America, an all-powerful technology, with its standardized techniques and methods of mass production, reached its zenith. As technology attracted larger numbers of people to urban centers, and compressed them into smaller areas, community living became a necessity. This, in turn, encouraged people to co-operate, and created relationships that invite similar activities and opinions. Gradually there emerged on the American scene, against all natural development of culture and against all individual traits inherent in every man, two striking attitudes that made American conformity broader, more unyielding, and more dangerous. The first attitude, assumed by the majority, was that the act of becoming average, of being normal, was more important than that of being distinct or superior. The second attitude, also assumed by the majority, was that the state of being well adjusted to the crowd and the community was more important than that of being a unique and original human being.

If the eccentric is sufficiently integrated to succeed in some field, to gain wealth or power, he is admired and respected and his oddity is overlooked. But if the eccentric fails, he is pitied or ridiculed and shunned as something strange.

These are the square pegs that would not fit into round holes. They went backward when everyone went forward, and they went forward when everyone stood still. They said nay when others said aye, and they saw black when others saw white. Despite suffering, economic and spiritual, they refused to be garmented to the strait jacket of conformity. This, and no other, is their achievement - and it is enough. For when our society no longer has a single square peg, when it no longer has a recalcitrant individual out of step, when it no longer has a voice that will rise to dissent and disagree and persists in an unorthodoxy, then, and only then, will man have lost his battle and his last chance.

Having the freedom to be a round peg in a square hole.

figure out why those things happened, we are susceptible to a variety of cognitive traps, like assuming causation when there is only a correlation, or cherry-picking data to confirm the narrative we prefer. We will pound a lot of square pegs into round holes to maintain the illusion of a tight relationship between our outcomes and our decisions.

I know this is fun for you. You get to travel around, act superior than everyone else. Plus you get to go home, get married, get some boring job, have tons of kids, and when you die you get your own planet. It all sounds pretty awesome. But, there are other kinds of people. People like Charlie, for whom this amazing plan doesn’t fit. You can’t fit a round peg in a square hole, and you certainly can’t fit a morbidly obese gay peg in a Mormon hole. That came out wrong.

There are not so many round pegs in square holes one might think. Most people, in spite of what they tell you choose the occupation that they secretly desire. You will hear a man say who works in an office, 'I should like to explore, to rough it in far countries.' But you will find that he likes reading the fiction that deals with that subject, but that he himself prefers the safety and moderate comfort of an office stool.

4½ ounces cream cheese ½ cup butter 1 cup flour jelly or preserves Sugar Belle melts her butter, blends it with the cheese, and stirs in the flour to make a nice smooth dough. Then she puts it in the freezing compartment for about an hour, until it’s firm. Next, she nips little pieces off, about the size of golf balls, rolls them out, trims them into squares, and puts a teaspoon of jelly on each. (If you wonder why Sugar Belle doesn’t just roll the whole thing out and cut it into squares, it is because the dough is hard to handle that way.) Then she folds them into triangles, seals the edges with a floured fork, and bakes them on a greased cooky sheet at 450º until they’re brown, which is from ten to fifteen minutes. And when she puts a big plateful of these in front of her husband, you just ought to see his face light up!

Deborah Tedone, Director of Square Pegs/Asperger's Support Group for Adults in Rochester, NY. Deborah says so eloquently what all parents of AS girls need to hear.

Payment processing: As seen, you now can fit a Square peg through a round hole and be a merchant. Education

Wesley and most of his descendants developed a doctrine of Scripture that focused on its role in transforming the believer’s inner being as the ground for reordering behavior. Fundamentalism, on the other hand, developed a doctrine of Scripture that tended to focus on reordering behavior in obedience to a body of propositional truths.

When we work backward from results to figure out why those things happened, we are susceptible to a variety of cognitive traps, like assuming causation when there is only a correlation, or cherry-picking data to confirm the narrative we prefer. We will pound a lot of square pegs into round holes to maintain the illusion of a tight relationship between our outcomes and our decisions.

Even though there was not a shadow of doubt that my boy was an Aspie, we never pushed to get a formal diagnosis. He already had an IEP in place, so I figured, why bother? As long as he was getting the help, the modifications and the tools he needed to succeed, I didn’t care about the diagnosis. Then Jay entered 3rd grade, and well, that way of thinking changed. That year the other children started to notice Jay’s quirky behaviors and uncontrollable emotional outbursts. But even more importantly, Jay was starting to notice. He was not sleeping at night, his anxiety level was at an all-time high and his self-confidence was dangerously low. One day, in the middle of a meltdown, my boy blurted out, “I feel like I am a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, and no matter how hard I try to make myself fit, I can’t do it. Why am I like this, Mommy?” My heart broke for my son. Not believing was no longer an option. We took him to be officially diagnosed.

She wonders whether she’ll ever be able to fit her square-peg self into this round-holed world instead of constantly having to fake it.

For the first time since I joined the infantry, I didn't feel like a square peg trying to be squeezed into a round hole. WO Godin and this young instructor had adapted that hole to accommodate my corners. It was meant to be a joke, but what they had just done was to recognize my differences, and instead of trying to penalize the entire team in order to even out the playing field or worse yet, to force me to be what I could not be, they had embraced those differences.

. . . there is a societal benefit to tolerating, perhaps even nurturing . . . the crazy ones—the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes.