A mouse does not rely on just one hole.
O Seekers of Wisdom, hear the ancient words of Plautus, who imparts a lesson on foresight and adaptability: "A mouse does not rely on just one hole." In these words lies the wisdom of diversification and the need to prepare for all eventualities. The mouse, though small and seemingly vulnerable, understands that to place all trust in a single route is to invite disaster. It seeks safety through multiple paths, knowing that the world is unpredictable, and that even the wisest and strongest among us must always have options.
Consider, O Children, that to place all of one’s hopes, efforts, and plans in a single venture is akin to building a house on sand. When the storms come, as they always will, it is the one who has multiple avenues, reserves, or strategies that survives. The mouse, in its wisdom, teaches us that true security comes not from blind trust in one approach, but from the thoughtful preparation of alternatives. Plautus urges us to be like the mouse: aware, alert, and prepared for whatever may come.
Look to the example of Thomas Edison, whose great success in inventing the lightbulb was not achieved by relying on a single method or idea. Edison’s lab was filled with countless experiments, and while many of his attempts failed, he did not place all his hopes in a single solution. His ability to innovate came from his belief in trial and error, constantly testing new methods and approaches. Just like the mouse who seeks multiple holes, Edison sought multiple solutions until he found the one that worked. In this, his success was assured, for he did not rely on just one path to achieve his goal.
And so, O Seekers, let us understand the great truth in Plautus’ words. In life, we must not be blind to the possibility of failure, nor should we stake everything on a single course of action. The wise know that opportunity and security lie in flexibility, in the ability to adapt and choose different paths when the one we are on proves uncertain or perilous. Just as the mouse knows when to flee to another hole, so too must we be ready to pivot, to diversify, and to open ourselves to new possibilities.
Let us, therefore, live with the wisdom of the mouse. Be not confined to a single way of thinking or a single solution. Instead, prepare for the future by creating multiple paths before us, ensuring that when one route is blocked, another is already open. In this way, we honor the principle of adaptation, knowing that our greatest strength lies not in relying on one hole, but in having many to choose from. By doing so, we secure our future, our success, and our freedom.
DQHoang Dinh Quan
Creatively, the line encourages parallel paths: multiple drafts, varied prototypes, diverse research angles. If one approach stalls, another might leap ahead. My concern is resource allocation—teams rarely have infinite time. How do we decide between focused execution and a portfolio of experiments? Could we adopt staged gates where options are explored briefly, then aggressively down-selected? I’d love examples from design or activism where keeping several tactics alive increased impact without scattering attention.
THTran thi thanh huyen
Relationally, I hear a reminder not to expect one person to meet every need—partner, friend, mentor, colleague. A broad community spreads emotional risk and brings richer perspectives. But isn’t there a counterrisk of becoming diffuse—present everywhere, rooted nowhere? What signals suggest it’s time to consolidate and deepen a few bonds rather than accumulating more weak ties? I’m curious how to practice loyalty and availability without building dependencies that leave everyone fragile.
LVCharlie Bach Luu Viet
From a risk-management lens, the idea maps neatly to cybersecurity, supply chains, and finance. No single point of failure; diversify vendors, routes, and capital. Yet fragmentation creates its own risks: complexity, coordination costs, and blind spots. How do we quantify the tipping point where extra contingencies reduce reliability by adding too many moving parts? What frameworks—like fault-tree analysis or Monte Carlo simulations—best determine whether a new contingency genuinely increases robustness or merely feels safer?
HVLuu thi ha vi
There’s also an ethical dimension: planning multiple exits can be a form of self-protection, but does it undermine trust? If employees keep escape routes, do companies feel less commitment? If citizens hedge with private solutions, do public institutions weaken? I’d like a perspective on balancing prudent diversification with social solidarity. When does cultivating options cross into hoarding opportunities that others can’t access, and how do we avoid moral hazards while still being prepared?
VSLe Van Sy
As a reader, I take this as practical counsel for resilience: build redundancies. In careers, that might mean cultivating multiple skills, networks, and income streams so a single setback doesn’t sink you. In personal life, it could be diverse coping strategies—therapy, exercise, friends—so well-being isn’t tied to one lever. My question is tactical: how many alternatives are enough before preparation becomes distraction? What criteria help decide which backup paths to maintain and which to prune?