The more one pleases everybody, the less one pleases profoundly.
"The more one pleases everybody, the less one pleases profoundly." Thus declared Stendhal, the sharp-eyed chronicler of the heart, who saw through the masks of society to the hidden truths of the soul. His words remind us that in seeking the applause of the many, a man risks losing the depth of the few. To try to please all is to scatter the spirit like dust in the wind, but to please profoundly is to strike the soul like a thunderbolt, leaving an eternal mark.
The ancients knew this truth. The poets of Greece sang not to win every ear, but to move the hearts of the faithful. Socrates himself, despised by the multitude, sought not to please the crowd but to awaken truth within a few. His life was proof that the love of the masses fades quickly, but the bond of those touched deeply endures forever. Better a single disciple transformed than a thousand nods of shallow agreement.
History offers us the tale of Vincent van Gogh. In his lifetime, he pleased almost no one. His art was ridiculed, his genius unrecognized, his soul cast into shadows. Yet in time his brushstrokes, burning with life, pierced the hearts of millions. Though he failed to please his generation, he pleased profoundly across the ages, shaping the vision of art forever. His tragedy and triumph embody Stendhal’s wisdom.
So too in the realm of politics and leadership. Abraham Lincoln, mocked and hated by many in his own day, did not labor to please every voice. He stood for what he believed was just and true. The crowd often scorned him, yet his words—spoken with conviction—profoundly pleased the conscience of a nation, leaving a legacy that still binds America. To please all would have left him shallow; to please profoundly made him eternal.
Therefore, let this wisdom be carried forward: do not squander your life chasing the fleeting smiles of the crowd. Seek instead to touch hearts with depth, to move souls with truth, to leave marks that endure. For the one who pleases everybody vanishes like mist, but the one who pleases profoundly carves his name upon the rock of time.
TTTran Tuan Tai
There’s a metrics angle I’d like help with. Broad reach often inflates vanity numbers while deep resonance shows up in power-law behavior—fewer people, heavier engagement. Which signals best predict durable impact: session depth, qualitative testimonials, community contributions, or referral chains? If algorithms reward mild approval, how do we design dashboards that counterbalance with depth—cohort retention, creator-to-audience dialogue ratios, and “mission-fit” surveys? Please outline a small analytics stack that privileges meaning over mass without starving growth experiments entirely.
GVNgan Giang Vo
On a personal level, this reads like a boundary check. Chronic appeasing can flatten identity until relationships feel safe but shallow. How do we tell care from capitulation? I’d love a quick self-audit: list your top values, note recent yeses that violated them, and set two “polite no” scripts for common traps. Can you offer repairs for inevitable missteps—naming the pattern, apologizing without self-erasure, and proposing a new norm? I’m after a path where kindness keeps its backbone and intimacy gets deeper, not thinner.
BTNguyen Ngoc Bao Thy
In leadership, I worry about consensus washing strategy. If every stakeholder gets a slice, priorities blur, and nobody feels fully served. How do we balance inclusion with decisiveness? I’d appreciate concrete moves: write a one-page doctrine of non-goals, precommit to decision criteria before debate, run a red-team review to surface dissent, then “disagree and commit” with clear success metrics. When backlash arrives—as it will—what signals tell us to adjust versus hold the line: outcome deltas, frontline sentiment, or risk exposure crossing guardrails?
NHNguyen Huynh
Creatively, this nudges me toward embracing edges. The works that lodge in memory often risk strangeness: a voice, a constraint, a moral stance. Yet there’s a fine line between distinctive and self-indulgent. Could you sketch guardrails for cultivating a strong aesthetic without alienating everyone—limited palettes, recurring motifs, and a small audience advisory council that flags confusion versus productive tension? I’m also curious about feedback hygiene: when comments conflict, how do you decide which discomfort is growth and which is noise sanding away meaning?
TPThuyNgoc Pham
As a reader, I hear a product lesson about trade-offs. When a roadmap chases every persona, features bloat and the soul leaks out. How do we defend a sharp point of view without becoming obstinate? I’d love a practical rubric: define an ideal customer profile, rank problems by severity and frequency, run two “spiky” bets alongside one broad baseline, and set a kill threshold for lukewarm adoption. What’s the single test you trust most—retention curve, willingness to pay, or “Would ten super-fans be upset if we cut this?”