Topic: Tolerance | |
---|---|
As the years pass, have you noticed you have become more tolerant of people, or less intolerant of people?
Sure you can get into the why's or why nots |
|
|
|
Funny you ask this as I was thinking about this yesterday!!
For me I think it's both. In general more tolerant, but when it comes to who I want to hang out with and allow in my more personal close circle I think I've become less tolerant as I know better what works for me and what not. |
|
|
|
Since I had been disappointed so many times, I became less tolerant. But I ignore most people and keep away from them.
|
|
|
|
As the years pass, have you noticed you have become more tolerant of people, or less intolerant of people? Sure you can get into the why's or why nots I feel my tolerance has not changed. |
|
|
|
My tolerance has gone up. I knotice i can drink a lot more these days.
|
|
|
|
I've become more tolerant just because I'm running out of acreage to bury the bodies. Anybody got land for sale?
|
|
|
|
I've become less tolerant of intolerance.
|
|
|
|
Same.
|
|
|
|
At least on the net you can block people. In real life it gets more awkward...
I have become more tolerant and less tolerant. I generally accept anyone, but I am zealous about my time and who I hang with. I guard my friends and my time like a rottweiler. Time is precious. |
|
|
|
I have the tolerance of a saint but that does not mean they have my respect
|
|
|
|
I am tolerant.. however I do not appreciate someone demanding tolerance, yet they are not tolerant of anything themselves..
|
|
|
|
β I couldn't find any straw to step upon, so I stepped upon more men. The resentment increased, so did my forward movement. I lost my footing and sat down with sharp abruptness. Unfortunately, it was on a man's head. The next moment he had risen on his hands and knees in wrath, and I was flying through the air. What goes up must come down, and I came down on another man's head.
What happened after that is very vague in my memory. It was like going through a threshing-machine. I was bandied about from one end of the car to the other. Those eighty-four hoboes winnowed me out till what little was lift of me, by some miracle, found a bit of straw to rest uponβ Jack London, The Road |
|
|