Never contradict. Never explain. Never apologize.
(Those are the secrets of a happy life).JOHN ARBUTHNOT FISHER
Never explain—your friends do not need it
and your enemies will not believe you anyway.ELBERT HUBBARD, in The Motto Book (1907)
Never apologize and never explain—it’s a sign of weakness.JOHN WAYNE, in the 1949 film She Wore a Yellow Ribbon
Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.ROBERT J. HANLON
This now-classic line made its first appearance in print in Murphy’s Law, Book Two: More Reasons Why Things Go Wrong, Arthur Bloch’s 1980 sequel to his first Murphy’s Law book, published a few years earlier. The observation was simply described as “Hanlon’s Razor,” and for many years, people thought Hanlon was a fictional creation of Bloch’s. After all, the observation bears a close resemblance to a famous line from Robert Heinlein’s 1941 sci-fi story “Logic of Empire”: “You have attributed conditions to villainy that simply result from stupidity.”
But there was a very real person behind the quotation, and after discussing it with Hanlon’s widow, Regina, and his son, Robert, I’m happy to tell the story here. For many years, Robert J. Hanlon was a computer programmer at the Tobyhanna Army Depot in Scranton, Pennsylvania. After reading the first Murphy’s Law book, he decided to accept the publisher’s invitation for readers to submit “laws” of their own creation for a planned sequel. Several months after submitting his creation, he was delighted to learn that his never attribute to malice creation would be appearing in the book. As a “prize” for his selection, Hanlon ultimately received ten copies of the sequel when it was published in 1980, and there are some friends and family members who still treasure the copies that Hanlon autographed for them. Hanlon was deeply interested in poetry and literature, and would often amaze people with his ability to recite extensive passages from Shakespeare’s works completely from memory. But did he ever read Robert Heinlein’s “Logic of Empire”? That we will never know.
Never attempt to teach a pig to sing;
it wastes your time and annoys the pig.ROBERT A. HEINLEIN
This line, which first appeared in Heinlein’s 1973 sci-fi classic Time Enough for Love, was delivered by the character Lazarus Long, an earthling who was born in a selective-breeding experiment, raised on distant planets, and able to live for several centuries (he first appeared in Heinlein’s 1941 novel Methuselah’s Children). Long, who appeared in five Heinlein novels, is one of the genre’s most enduring characters, and this observation appears at the conclusion of a remarkable passage. In a conversation with a friend about dealing with greedy people, he says:I have never swindled a man. At most I keep quiet and let him swindle himself. This does no harm, as a fool cannot be protected from his folly. If you attempt to do so, you will not only arouse his animosity but also you will be attempting to deprive him of whatever benefit he is capable of deriving from the experience. Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.
Shortly after Time Enough for Love was published, this admonition began to enjoy great popularity. And while Heinlein clearly was the original author of the saying about never teaching pigs to sing, I now believe he may have been inspired by an even earlier observation about pigs—and one that has nothing to do with singing:
Never wrestle with a pig;
you’ll get dirty, and only the pig enjoys it.
This warning about getting dragged into the mud during a dispute with a disagreeable or obnoxious person emerged during World War II, but it began to show up with far greater frequency after it was mentioned in a 1950 Time magazine profile of Cyrus Ching. After decades of work as a labor-management arbitrator and dispute mediator, the seventy-four-year-old Ching had just been named by President Truman to head up a new government agency called the Wage Stabilization Board. When the plain-speaking Ching was asked how he felt about the criticism he was likely to be getting for taking on the thankless responsibility of stabilizing wages, he replied: “I learned long ago never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty and besides the pig likes it.”
Never tell tales out of school.LEMUEL HOPKINS, in a 1786 issue of The Anarchiad
The phrase “telling tales out of school” first appeared in William Tyndale’s 1530 book Practice of Prelates. In the 1600s, an English proverb emerged that extended the concept: “You must not tell tales out of the tavern.” Hopkins, though, was one of the first—if not the first—to use the neveristic version. The saying is often used to chastise someone who has revealed a secret or passed along information that was better left unsaid.
Never take counsel of your fears.THOMAS “STONEWALL” JACKSON
This was a favorite saying of the legendary Confederate general, heard by his officers and troops on many occasions. It has been adopted by many subsequent military leaders, most notably George S. Patton, who said it this way: “After you make a decision, do it like hell—and never take counsel of your fears.”
Never give an order that can’t be obeyed.GEN. DOUGLAS A. MACARTHUR, citing the single most
important thing he learned from his father, a Civil War hero
Never look back;
something might be gaining on you.LEROY “SATCHEL” PAIGE, in the 1948 book Pitchin’ Man:
Satchel Paige’s Own Story (written with Hal Lebovitz)
This is the most famous saying from one of the most famous players in sports history. And though this is the way Paige wrote it in his 1948 autobiography, it was phrased in a slightly different way in a profile on Paige in a 1953 issue of Collier’s magazine. The magazine profile included a “Rules for Staying Young” sidebar that offered this version: “Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.” Paige used both sayings over the years, but appeared to favor the more forceful neveristic one.
five
Never Underestimate the Power of a Woman: And a Lot of Other Things as Well
“Never Underestimate” Neverisms
In February of 1883, the popular American magazine Tribune and Farmer inaugurated a single-page supplement for the wives of its overwhelmingly male readership. Titled “Women at Home,” the original feature was written by the magazine’s publisher, Cyrus Curtis. When his wife, Louisa Knapp Curtis, read the piece, she wasn’t exactly impressed. She liked the idea of a female-targeted supplement, though, and volunteered to produce the next issue. Mr. Curtis wisely accepted his wife’s offer to help.