In art, a dress is never just a dress; nor in life either.
Writing is a refuge from unhappiness, but has its own sorrows.
Conscious thought is the tidying up at the end.
Some eras worship infancy; some, the aged. None as yet has adored middle age.
Aphorisms have never seduced anybody, but they have fooled some into considering themselves worldly-wise.
The greater the privilege, the more hidden the arrogance. The Emperor of China need not exist.