I am skeptical in principle, gullible in practice.
Experience teaches us, but we scarcely know what.
No chaos, no creation. Evidence: the kitchen at mealtime.
Like a frog, the aphorist waits for something to fly by that he can catch with his tongue.
Writing about an idea frees me of it. Thinking about it is a circle of repetitions.
Arrogance rides triumphantly through the gates, barely glancing at the old woman about to cut the rope and spring shut the trap.