I create my social existence by earning and spending.
Self-satisfaction and self-pity are both condemned. What are people permitted to feel about themselves?
Self-realization sounds good. But what if only an enraged dwarf emerges?
Self-analysis always cheats.
I am never more myself than in my self-betrayals.
Which is the supplement? Fantasy or daily routine?
Cruel impulses stir all about my kindly heart.
Unlike other vices, cruelty, alas, is never boring.
Victory brings obliviousness; defeat, attentiveness.
I tried self-sacrifice a couple of times in my youth.
The aphorism sometimes casts off cynicism and expresses strong feeling.
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.
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.
Energy falls just short of being joy.
