Doubt anyone who has a simple solution to a large, complex real-world problem.
Suspect anyone who has a single solution to multiple large, complex, real-world problems.
Prepare for immediate self-defence when anyone has a single, simple solution for all the real-world problems.
I think that never blows so red
The rose, as where some buried Caesar bled,
That every hyacinth the garden bears
Fell in her lap from some once-lovely head.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
The worldly hope men set their hearts upon
Turns ashes, or it prospers and anon
Like snow upon the desert's dusty face,
Lighting a little hour or two, is gone.
The moving finger writes, and having writ,
Moves on. Nor all thy pity and wit
Can lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave
Awaits alike the inevitable hour —
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
