Exactly.The best and the only thing they shall gladly do is to STAY IN ONE’S LANE and NOT to talk some innocent others into some will-be future disaster
Some characteristics:
- Believes the world is unfair
- Has a relatively primitive moral system, using a binary classification that divides humanity into “good people” and “bad people,” “us” and “them”
- Highly cares about others’ evaluations of oneself
- Likes to weave stories and fabricate the future
- Sources of understanding are one’s own feelings, authority, and recurring content. When facing difficulties, they preferentially seek opinion leaders (prominent online figures).
- Tends to echo others; becomes extremely dogmatic about a certain ideology for a period, and after the illusion shatters, becomes extremely dogmatic about another ideology
- Unable to realize that everyone is a frog at the bottom of a well (especially regarding oneself)
- Talks about others behind their backs and makes highly certain judgments about matters they actually know nothing about
- Does not understand “Do not impose on others what you do not wish for yourself,” and imposes one’s own fears and dislikes onto others
- Is dishonest with oneself and others, adept at sophistical logical arguments
- Associates the concept of “courage” more with “hatred,” “revenge,” etc., rather than “standing by one’s principles”; in fact, they have no clear principles
Wow, there’s also Notre Dame.
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Russell “The Road to Happiness”
Excerpt from the chapter “Causes of Unhappiness”
I believe that most unhappiness arises because a mistaken worldview, ethics, or lifestyle habits destroy people’s innate enthusiasm and interest in things, and those very things are the source of happiness for humans and animals.
Excerpt from the chapter “Byronic Unhappiness”
Reason cannot stop joy.
I do not think there is any super‑human rationality in unhappiness. Just as it has happened in several stages of history, a common modern view holds that the wise have seen through the passions of past eras and now have nothing worth pursuing in life. People with this view are usually unhappy, yet they take great pride in their unhappiness, claiming it to be a universal truth and the rational attitude of an enlightened person. This pride in unhappiness makes others doubt its authenticity. If one can enjoy misery in this way, then misery itself should not seem so terrible. Such thinking is obviously shallow; of course, it feels like a superior insight that compensates emotionally, but this emotion is far from replacing simple happiness.
I do not think there is any super‑human rationality in unhappiness. When circumstances allow, a rational person can be happy; if he truly finds contemplation of cosmic issues too painful, he should contemplate other topics.
We must distinguish between feeling and intellectual expression. You cannot argue with a feeling; a feeling changes because of a fortunate event or a physiological condition, but it cannot be changed by persuasion.
Lacking certain desired things is a necessary condition for happiness.
We live in an age of doubt, where many old standards have been abandoned and new standards have not yet been established, leading to many problems. When the collective subconscious still adheres to old standards, the emergence of problems often brings despair, regret, and cynicism. I think few people actually encounter such situations, but those who do tend to have the most opportunities to speak out.
Different eras in history have produced various forms of solitary philosophy (独身主义), some very sacred, others not. The Stoics and early Christians believed that a person, relying solely on his own strength without others’ assistance, can understand the greatest good that human life can achieve. I personally think this view is wrong—not only ethically, but also contrary to human nature. Humans depend on cooperation; cooperation is a natural instinct, and although this instinct may be imperfect, it provides the basis for the friendly relationships needed for cooperation. Love is the first and most common emotional form that leads to cooperation.
It is simply because we no longer consider certain people great, entitled to tragic rights, while others must labor miserably to supply those few noble classes. Shakespeare said: “When a beggar dies, no comet streaks across the sky; the heavens shine only for the death of a prince.” In Shakespeare’s time, not everyone may have believed this, but it reflected the prevailing values and Shakespeare’s deep conviction. Thus the death of the poet Sinna is comic, while the deaths of Caesar, Brutus, and Cassius are tragic. For us, an individual’s death can no longer give us a world‑shaking feeling because society has become democratic, both in outward form and in inner recognition. Therefore, modern great tragedy cannot be tied only to a single person; it must involve the whole community. As Aristotle said, tragedy should “wash the reader through pity and fear.” Such modern tragedies are rare because old techniques and traditions must be abandoned, yet they cannot be replaced merely by ordinary contemporary education. To feel tragedy, a person must understand the world he lives in, not only with his mind but also with his life and passion. He and his literary friends have not yet learned how to respond to new stimuli with old emotions. Stimuli exist, but not within literary circles. Literary circles are severely detached from society; to give tragedy serious, profound emotion, people in literary circles must engage with society. For those young people who drown in emotion and think nothing in the world is worth doing, my advice is: stop trying to write and truly go out into the world; be a pirate, be a king of Borneo, be a Soviet laborer; find something that exhausts your basic physiological needs. I do not suggest everyone do this, but those who suffer from ailments similar to Mr. Kruczi’s can. I believe that after a few years of such a life, these people will inevitably be unable to suppress the desire to write, and then writing will no longer feel empty for them.
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After the final week exam, be sure to study this book.
In my social interactions, I’ve found that the love I need is almost the same as friendship. The actual difference between dating and friendship is whether romance and sex are involved, right? But I don’t care about either; I have low physiological desire, and deliberately creating romance is not as good as having someone imagine with me.
Also, in a romantic relationship, if it leads to marriage, that would involve a sense of responsibility, but my sense of responsibility is weak… maybe living with a friend could achieve the same things.
Of course, I’m not particularly opposed to dating; after all, making friends and dating probably follow the same path for me.
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For the past twenty years I was like that, thinking I was asexual. Later I still met someone who made me fall.
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Really?
My view is basically the same as the previous member’s: for me, friendship and romance are no different. And the one‑on‑one nature of a romantic relationship does, to some extent, limit the freedom of making friends.
I have always considered myself asexual, thinking that I will never enter such a romantic state in this life.
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That’s just because the perception of attraction between the sexes isn’t very strong 
Putting that aside, making friends is no different from being a partner (for me, because I don’t really consider either family’s background or material foundation).
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Hey, asexuality is still a kind of love, and it’s not the same as being completely indifferent (?). I can also fall for someone because of their gentle and intellectual nature; it’s just that physiological desire plays a relatively small role in this process. When it comes to gender and looks, I can also not care much about them.
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