The aphorist is a hit and run artist.
The aphorism is a slippery plaything.
The aphorism wants to be at the same time both main line and off beat.
A sentimental aphorism is even more a surprise than a hard- boiled sonnet.
To be thoroughly modern, an aphorism should trail off vaguely rather than coming to a point.
Like a frog, the aphorist waits for something to fly by that he can catch with his tongue.
The perfect aphorism would achieve classical balance and then immediately upset it.
Aphorisms may equivocate, but they must not wobble.
Aphorisms know the angles, but not the structure.
The aphorism: a platitude that swerves, or slides all the way around.
Good places for aphorisms: in fortune cookies, on bumper stickers, and on banners flying over the Palace of Free Advice.
Once I find the right maxim to apply, I feel that I have done all that can be expected of me.
An aphorism that does not score is just one more sentence.
The aphorism offers a momentary sense of mastery over some confusion or unhappiness.
By multiplying ironies, I evade commitments.
I feel affluent or not according to what part of town I am in.
Spirituality now wanders from sex to drugs to art to revolution to violence--whatever seems to promise deliverance from the quotidian.
Infallibility and invincible ignorance are the same thing.
Lechery is secretive, but must finally reveal itself to at least one.
Guilt agonizes over trifles, ignores habitual wrongdoing.
Tales of adultery are much improved by period costumes.
Asceticism and celibacy can conceal many incapacities.
Asceticism without religion is just another way of cultivating peculiar sensations.
Chastity is now treated as a sexual problem.
Cynicism has its own zealots.
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