We Often Disguise Our Reflexes As Deliberate

Our Vices Are Attempts To Combine Self-medication And Enjoyment.

The Interest In Wisdom Is Fading. Soon There Will Not Be Enough Left To Support The Aphorism, Even Though It Tries To Amuse By Half-mocking The Wisdom It Propounds.

Like A Frog, The Aphorist Waits For Something To Fly By That He Can Catch With His Tongue.

Boredom Turns To Panic If My Beloved Leaves Before The Usual Time.

The Horse Stares At Its Captor, Barely Remembering The Free Kicks Of Youth.