Cocksure

The fundamental cause of the trouble is that in the modern world the stupid are cocksure while the intelligent are full of doubt.

Tom is cocksure.

Some of us are a little too much inclined to be cocksure.

I thought myself cocksure of his horse, which he readily promis'd me.

The persistence of the Past is one of those tragicomic blessings which each new age denies, coming cocksure on to the stage to mouth its claim to a perfect novelty.

These crack specialists, the young scientific fellows, they're so cocksure and so wrapped up in their laboratories that they miss the human element.

Cocksure certainty is the source of much that is worst in our present world, and it is something of which the contemplation of history ought to cure us, not only or chiefly because there were wise men in the past, but because so much that was thought wisdom turned out to be folly – which suggests that much of our own supposed wisdom is no better. I do not mean to maintain that we should lapse into a lazy scepticism. We should hold our beliefs, and hold them strongly. Nothing great is achieved without passion, but underneath the passion there should always be that large impersonal survey which sets limits to actions that our passions inspire.

“What's this? You sending the little guy to private school?” “Yeah, we're thinking about it.” “Oh. Well, you better add Helen Country Day School to the list 'cause you're talking to an HCD grad right here.” “Really? Well, there you go. That's where the boy shall go.” “Yeah, I can help you with that. I happen to be very tight with the headmaster.” “Don't you think that's a rather hasty decision?” “Sean went there, and look how he's turned out.” “Right.” “Tuck his trousers in and everything. No, I've never been more cocksure of any decision in my life.”