We sometimes find truth, but more often it finds us.
The madness of love can always be suspended--to cook dinner or catch a plane, for instance.
My mother's mild-eyed sadness looks at me from the eyes of those I love.
Yearning wants mostly to perpetuate itself.
Reason argues the case, but fact may determine the judgment.
Like a frog, the aphorist waits for something to fly by that he can catch with his tongue.