Unconditional love is a lofty ideal, but unconditional hate is a fact well documented by history.
The aphorist is a hit and run artist.
I am the center of the world, but the control panel seems to be somewhere else.
Sophistication knows the score, but is powerless to change it.
The self-righteous feel no need to be charming, and thus double their offensiveness.
I am interested in a hundred things, but only slightly.