People who say these 7 phrases tend to be highly intelligent

There’s a pattern I notice in people who think clearly.

It’s not just what they know—it’s what they say in the messy middle of figuring things out.

Here are seven phrases that show up again and again when I’m around sharp minds (and try to use myself).

1. I don’t know—yet.

The smartest people I know don’t armor up with answers. They admit uncertainty and keep the door open for discovery.

That little dash—“yet”—matters. Growth-mindset pioneer Carol Dweck calls this the “power of yet,” and she’s right. As she put it in her TED Talk, “[Just the words ‘not yet’] give you a path into the future.”

When I started exploring plant-based cooking years ago, I didn’t know how to make tofu taste like anything but a pencil eraser.

“I don’t know—yet” kept me experimenting until I learned the magic of pressing, marinating, and high-heat roasting. Intelligence looks a lot like that: refusing to confuse the current snapshot with the final picture.

2. What am I missing?

This question is a Swiss Army knife for thinking. It lowers your ego, invites dissent, and spots blind spots before they spot you.

I use it when I think I’ve nailed a draft, a photo edit, or a decision. Sometimes the answer is small (“you buried the lead”), sometimes it’s huge (“you’re optimizing the wrong thing”).

Professionally, this phrase builds trust. It signals you care more about being accurate than being right.

Personally, it saves friendships because it assumes there’s a version of the story you haven’t heard yet. Intelligent people know their attention has edges—and they actively look over them.

3. Can you show me how you got there?

Smart folks ask for the path, not just the destination. “Because the spreadsheet says so” isn’t reasoning; it’s decor.

When someone walks me through their steps—assumptions, definitions, intermediate calculations—I learn twice: what they know and how they think. That turns disagreements into joint debugging.

I’ve mentioned this before but the best conversations feel like pair programming. Even if we don’t agree at the end, we’ve mapped the terrain.

And if the logic wobbles, we can fix the step where it buckled instead of throwing the whole idea away.

4. Let’s define the terms.

Ambiguity is a sneaky time thief. Intelligent people pin down key words before they argue about them. Are we talking “productivity” as in outputs per hour, or “productivity” as in “I feel good about my day”? Two very different debates.

I see this a lot in nutrition. “Healthy” can mean fiber-rich whole foods, or it can mean “low-calorie,” or “macro-friendly,” or “minimally processed.” Before we toss studies around, we should align on the definitions inside them.

It’s not pedantry—it’s precision. Extraordinary claims need extraordinary evidence. You can’t even weigh the evidence if you don’t know what the words weigh.

5. Let me think about that.

If instant opinions were a superpower, the internet would be a utopia. The most intelligent people I know refuse the pressure to react fast. They buy time to process.

Here’s what I do: I jot questions before I jot conclusions. What would change this view? What data would I need? What’s the cost of being wrong in each direction? Pausing also breaks the social pressure loop. People expect you to mirror the strongest emotion in the room; thinking buys you a moment to choose the right response, not the loudest one.

In a culture addicted to speed, slowness feels subversive. But it’s how you avoid taking strong positions on weak foundations.

6. I changed my mind.

There’s a weird badge-of-honor culture around “staying consistent.” But if your inputs change, shouldn’t your outputs, too? Intelligent people treat beliefs like software: update early and often.

I used to assume long runs were the only “real” cardio. Then I read up on joint load, HIIT research, and recovery, tried some experiments, and—surprise—I changed my mind.

Now I stack rowing intervals and brisk hikes. My fitness improved, and my knees stopped sending me hate mail.

As Maya Angelou put it, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” Changing your mind isn’t flip-flopping; it’s intellectual hygiene.

7. Here’s the simple version.

One sign of deep understanding is compression—taking something complicated and making it digestible without turning it into mush.

When I’m writing about the psychology behind everyday decisions, I try to offer the “tweet-length truth” before the nuance. Something like: “Willpower is a limited resource; design your environment so you need less of it.” Then I can layer in the studies, caveats, and how-tos.

This isn’t about dumbing things down; it’s about sharpening the core idea so the rest hangs together. If you’ve ever tried to explain compounding to a friend using coffee punch cards, you know the power of a clean analogy.

A resource I’m leaning on right now

Quick personal note: I’ve mentioned this book before, and I just finished a fresh read because I wanted something that helps me live these phrases—not just admire them. The book is Rudá Iandê’s new release, “Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life”.

His insights landed at exactly the right time for me. The book inspired me to treat emotions as data and to slow down before I speak—two habits that supercharge several phrases on this list (“Let me think about that,” “What am I missing?”).

One line I underlined fits this article like a key in a lock: “When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that's delightfully real.”

That’s the spirit behind “I changed my mind” and “Here’s the simple version.” Perfectionism makes us defensive and wordy; authenticity makes us curious and clear.

If you’re practicing these seven phrases, you’ll find his insights meet you where you actually live—inside the real-time friction between intellect and emotion, ideals and reality.

How to start using these phrases today

If you want these to be more than bookshelf wisdom, here’s a lightweight practice I use:

• Pick one phrase per week. Write it on a sticky note, set it as your phone wallpaper, or drop it in your calendar as a morning reminder.

• Track one “moment of use” per day. A quick line in your notes: Where did you use it? What changed?

• Pair the phrase with a behavior. “I don’t know—yet” pairs nicely with a two-minute literature search or one small experiment. “Let me think about that” pairs with a 24-hour reply window.

• Celebrate updates. When you say “I changed my mind,” add what changed it—new data, a better argument, a test result. You’re modeling how thinking improves.

(If you want a companion for this practice, Rudá Iandê’s “Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life” is a sharp counterweight to hot-take culture. I kept catching myself nodding and then asking, “Okay, what am I missing?”—which is the whole point.)

What these phrases signal to others

Language is a social signal. When you use these phrases, here’s what people tend to hear:

• Intellectual humility. You’re okay being seen in progress.

• Curiosity. You want the mechanism, not just the headline.

• Rigor. You care about definitions and evidence.

• Teachability. You’re easy (and enjoyable) to collaborate with because you invite feedback.

• Clarity. You can compress complexity without killing accuracy.

A quick note on traps to avoid

• Pretend humility. “I don’t know” followed by zero effort is just a shrug. Add the “—yet” and a next step.

• Weaponized questions. “What am I missing?” only works if you actually want to hear the answer.

• Over-simplifying. “Here’s the simple version” should be a doorway, not a dead end. Link to the fuller story when it matters.

• Mindset theater. Saying the phrases without changing your habits is like buying running shoes and never lacing them.

Why this matters

When you practice these phrases, you’re not just polishing your communication. You’re rewiring how you relate to uncertainty, disagreement, and learning.

That’s the engine behind better decisions—at work, at home, and even in the kitchen when you’re trying to turn a brick of tempeh into something your friends will fight you for.

It’s not about sounding smart. It’s about staying changeable, testable, and clear in a world that rewards hot takes over careful thinking.

If you’re ready to put these ideas into motion, consider pairing them with a mindset reset. I found Rudá Iandê’s “Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life” to be a timely nudge toward intellectual humility and emotional honesty—the two hidden engines of real intelligence.