Roberto Grippi In recent weeks I have found myself involved in very different situations: some related to my work, others to my hobbies.
There was no real connection between them, except for one essential fact: in every case I felt the moral responsibility to find a solution.
What is the difference between a life partner and a terrorist?
With a terrorist, you can negotiate.
This is a classic example of pub humour: a sharp one-liner that aims for a laugh by exaggerating stereotypes.
But if we dig a little deeper, it becomes an interesting metaphor for leadership, negotiation, and domestic life.
“Verba generalia non sunt impiccicatoria”
The Medieval Latin maxim “verba generalia non sunt impiccicatoria” is often rendered as “General words do not bind” — or, more literally, “General words are not to be interpreted restrictively.”
Rooted in Roman and medieval legal tradition, the expression warns that when a law, contract, or agreement employs broad or unspecific terms, such words should not automatically be read as a source of strict or punitive obligations.
“It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character, and judgment.”(Cicero) Strength can move matter, speed accelerates motion, and skill executes — yet none provide meaning or direction. Reflection offers clarity, character supplies resolve, and judgment bridges thought with action. Together, they turn ability … Read more
There is a scientific distinction between having guts and having balls. I have heard distinguished colleagues (husbands, that is) use the two expressions interchangeably.
They both refer to courage, of course; but do they really know the difference between these two degrees of bravery?
Here is the official distinction; straight from the British Medical Journal: Volume 323; page 295.
“You may not be interested in war, but war may be interested in you.”
— Leon Trotsky
Conflict does not wait for our consent.
We may prefer neutrality, but rivals, disruptions, and ambitions still reach us.
In business as in politics, refusing to engage does not guarantee safety — it often cedes initiative to others.
After mowing the lawn this afternoon, I rewarded myself with a cold beer by my swimming pool.
The weather was perfect, the grass was short, and the drink encouraged a certain philosophical mood.
My wife walked past and asked what I was doing.
I replied, “Nothing.”
It looks like many of you enjoy playing with exotic insults!
A quick note: insults are not always a single word (…though, admittedly, one sharp word often lands harder than an uppercut).
Some of the finest barbs in history are entire phrases, elegant in their cruelty.
So let us broaden the contest with a few gems you may try to outmatch.
This post is a challenge — against yours truly!
I came across a Facebook post about the art of insults, especially in British English, quoting Shakespeare’s delicious volley:
“You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian!”
Henry IV, Part 2 (Act 2, Scene 1)
Today, a dear friend came up against a wall: someone reasoning with the classic “After me, the flood!”, showing no willingness for constructive dialogue.
I suggested he resist the temptation of a public confrontation, which would have brought nothing but bitterness and no tangible results.
Better to wait, observe, and work behind the scenes to build a solution that truly works.
“Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.” (William James)
No action exists in a vacuum.
Every decision, every gesture — however small — sets off a chain of consequences. Some are visible immediately, others ripple quietly for months or years.
In leadership, this is not merely an uplifting sentiment; it is a strategic discipline.
A manager who dismisses small acts as irrelevant risks corroding trust, morale, and alignment. Conversely, a leader who handles even modest choices with care communicates that every contribution matters.
As the Sicilian proverb says:
“A word is like an arrow: once it has been shot, it cannot be taken back.”
“A parola è comu ‘a freccia: una vota scacciata, nun si po’ cchiù ripigghiari”
Brandolini’s Law and fake news
Formulated in a tweet by the Italian programmer Alberto Brandolini in 2013:
“The bullshit asymmetry: the amount of energy needed to refute bullshit is an order of magnitude bigger than to produce it.”
SOS — Slower, Older, and Smarter
Slower is not delay. It is design.
Older is not decline. It is perspective.
Smarter is not cleverness. It is prudence.
““Lu tempu e la spirienza fannu nasciri la prudenza” — time and experience give birth to prudence, says a Sicilian proverb.
I am Italian.
My heart lives on my sleeve, where the sun can warm it and the wind can wound it.
In my chest, a fire that will not bow to water or to chains.
On my lips, words that rush forward; no fear can stop them.
Silence has never been my refuge — I have always sought the edge where voices rise and truths collide.
“If pride were an illness, more than half of us would be dead.”
(Si la superbia fussi ‘nfirmitati nni murissiru cchiù di la mitati)
This Sicilian proverb turns arrogance into a fatal epidemic. It is not about healthy dignity, but the inflated pride that refuses to listen, hides mistakes, and blinds judgement.
It is a scalpel disguised as humour.
It takes a universal human flaw — arrogance — and exaggerates it into a fatal epidemic, implying that it is far more widespread than most will admit.
Freedom without measure is not freedom — it is chaos.
The ancient Greeks understood this long before us.
At the Temple of Apollo in Delphi, they carved two maxims that still serve as a compass for humanity: μηδὲν ἄγαν (mēdén ágan, “nothing in excess”) and γνῶθι σεαυτόν (“know yourself”).
Twin warnings: one against hybris — the arrogance of surpassing every boundary — and the other reminding us that self-knowledge is the first limit worth respecting.
“The written word lasts far longer than the spoken word.”
(Sicilian proverb:
“A parola scritta dura cchiussai di la parola detta”)
Paraphrased:
Memory betrays; writing preserves.
The greatest lie you tell yourself is:
“I do not need to write it down, I will remember it.”
Once, your memory was a steel trap — catching every detail and holding it fast. Today? Not quite. That brilliant idea you were sure you would not forget, that name on the tip of your tongue, that appointment you thought was “impossible to miss” — gone, swallowed by the noise of the day.
The Sicilian word “timpulata”, especially common in the dialect spoken in Palermo, refers to a slap — specifically, a blow delivered with an open hand, often to the cheek or the side of the head.
The term has ancient roots: it derives from the Greek verb “τύπτω” (týpto), meaning “to strike”. It also bears a resemblance to the Spanish “bofetada”, which also means slap. Like many Sicilian words, it reflects the island’s layered linguistic heritage, shaped by centuries of contact with Greek, Arabic, Spanish, and Norman cultures.
He who feels comfortable is always well dressed.
“Cu si senti comudu, è sempri vistutu bonu.”
(Sicilian proverb)
Style is not a label. It is a feeling.
Forget the runway. True elegance is found in what fits not only your body, but your life.
A garment may carry a famous name, but if it pinches, pulls, or makes you doubt yourself in the mirror — it is not style, it is theatre.
A foreign friend responded to my post yesterday with an intriguing question, and I thought the answer was worth sharing with everyone:
“I am curious. Given the rich ethnic diversity of Sicily, do you often find people of Greek, North African, and Germanic ancestry across the island?”
Yes — but not in the way one might imagine, with neatly distinct Greek, North African, or Germanic “communities.”
Sicily has been a crossroads for travellers, traders, and conquerors for over 3,000 years.