My pet peeve and my goal in life is to somehow get an adjective

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Rashida Jones, who with wit and longing declared: “My pet peeve and my goal in life is to somehow get an adjective for ‘integrity’ in the dictionary. ‘Truthful’ doesn’t really cover it, or ‘genuine.’ It should be like ‘integritus.’” At first, these words may seem light, spoken with humor. Yet beneath their jest shines a deep truth: the recognition that integrity is so rare, so noble, so essential to the fabric of human life, that even language itself strains to hold its meaning.

For what is integrity but the harmony of thought, word, and deed? It is the steadfastness of spirit that does not waver when tested, the alignment of the soul with what is right, even when the path is hard. Yet as Jones observes, our language gives us no single adjective to capture this virtue. We say “truthful,” but truth without consistency falters. We say “genuine,” but genuineness may lack moral strength. To be integritus, as she playfully suggests, would be to embody integrity fully, not only in essence but in every breath.

Consider the tale of Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher. In the midst of war, plague, and betrayal, he wrote his Meditations not as propaganda for the world but as reminders to himself: to act with justice, to stand firm, to live with integrity. He sought no applause; his measure was within. To describe him merely as “truthful” would be too small, for his virtue was not only in words but in the constancy of his life. Had the ancients coined the word “integritus,” surely it would have belonged to him.

Language, as the sages knew, shapes thought, and thought shapes destiny. If we lack a word for the quality we seek, often we lack the clarity to pursue it. By pointing out this absence, Jones reminds us that our civilization must not only practice integrity but name it, teach it, pass it down. For words are the vessels of memory; they carry the virtues of one age into the hearts of the next. Without such words, virtues may fade into shadows.

Her desire to forge an adjective reveals also the hunger of our times. In an age of surfaces, when images shine brighter than truths, to be called integritus would be a crown far greater than beauty or wealth. It would mean one is seen not as fractured, not as false, but as whole. Such a word would pierce through masks, honoring those who are consistent in principle, whether or not the world approves.

The lesson is clear: whether or not the word exists in the dictionary, let it exist in your life. Strive to be integritus in all things. Let your speech match your heart, let your actions match your speech, and let your values stand unshaken before storms. For while cleverness may dazzle and charm may persuade, only integrity endures. The empires of deceit crumble, but the man or woman of integrity leaves behind a legacy uncorrupted.

Practically, this means cultivating self-examination. Ask yourself daily: do my deeds match my values? Am I the same in solitude as in company, in hardship as in ease? Be slow to promise, but swift to fulfill. Refuse the easy path of compromise when it betrays your inner law. Teach your children not only to speak truth but to live it. In this way, even if the world never accepts “integritus” into its dictionary, it will live in your example, engraved upon the hearts of those who follow.

Thus let this saying endure: Language may lack the word, but life must not lack the virtue. To be integritus is to be whole, unwavering, and true. Carry this word in your heart, even if the dictionary does not. For the truest dictionaries are not written on paper, but upon the souls of men and women who live with integrity.