When science drove the gods out of nature, they took refuge in poetry and the porticos of civic buildings.
The aphorist is a hit and run artist.
The flesh of past lovers looks both familiar and strange.
Lead the reader toward the thought, then stop a little short.
Always late: thus I make you the prisoner of my freedom.
The philosophy of hedonism means little to lovers of pleasure. They have no inclination to read philosophy, or to write it.