The majority of men prefer delusion to truth. It soothes. It is easy to grasp. Above all, it fits more snugly than the truth into a universe of false appearances—of complex and irrational phenomena, defectively grasped.
See {638470} for more on the subject by Mencken.
All men prefer a false promise to a flat refusal.
In the end, I think people prefer the good to win rather than the bad.
People always want narratives to be clean and easy.
The world wisely prefers happiness to wisdom.
We all have some taste or other, of too ancient a date to admit of our remembering it was an acquired one.
Nobody wants to watch perfection.
Perhaps most people in the world aren’t trying to be free, Kafka. They just think they are. It’s all an illusion. If they really were set free, most people would be in a real pickle. You’d better remember that. People actually prefer not being free?
The choice for mankind lies between freedom and happiness and for the great bulk of mankind, happiness is better.
Nothing. It just finds you a lot more attractive than it does most Humans. What can you do with a beautiful woman that you can’t do with an ugly one? Nothing. It’s just a matter of preference.
I am more on the side of humans than robots.
Actors will never be replaced. The thought that somehow a computer version of a character is going to be something people prefer to look at is a ludicrous idea.
People like definite decisions, / Tidy answers, all the little ravelings / Snipped off, the lint removed, they / Hop happily among their roughs / Calling what they can't clutch insanity / Or saintliness.
Fiction keeps its audience by retaining the world as its subject matter. People like the world. Many people actually prefer it to art and spend their days by choice in the thick of it.
We favor the visible, the embedded, the personal, the narrated, and the tangible; we scorn the abstract.
I like working-class people, generally speaking.
Happiness, in one sense, is a function of how closely our world conforms to the infinite variety of human preference.
And if you ever do a survey, you'll find that people prefer illusion to reality, ten to one. Twenty, even.
I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that grovel-- Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble halls.
I think I'd take a human butler over a robot one.
Quite apart from the prestige of technology, people do, after all, prefer a simple idea to a complex one.
Why go to a machine when you could go to a human being?
I like people. I like animals, too-whales and quail, dinosaurs and dodos. But I like human beings especially, and I am unhappy that the pool of human germ plasm, which determines the nature of the human race, is deteriorating.
God is indeed a jealous God. He cannot bear to see, that we had rather not with him, but with each other play.
...we sacrifice other species to our own not because our own has any objective metaphysical privilege over others, but simply because it is ours. It may be very natural to have this loyalty to our own species, but let us hear no more from the naturalists about the "sentimentality" of anti-vivisectionists. If loyalty to our own species - preference for man simply because we are men - is not sentiment, then what is?