Aphorisms are essentially an aristocratic genre of writing. The aphorist does not argue or explain, he asserts; and implicit in his assertion is a conviction that he is wiser and more intelligent than his readers.

We must love one another or die

Life is a picnic on a precipice.

You will be a poet because you will always be humiliated.

Time will say nothing but I told you so, Time only knows the price we have to pay; If I could tell you I would let you know.

Every poet has his dream reader: mine keeps a look out for curious prosodic fauna like bacchics and choriambs.

Beloved, we are always in the wrong, Handling so clumsily our stupid lives, Suffering too little or too long, Too careful even in our selfish loves: The decorative manias we obey Die in grimaces round us every day, Yet through their tohu-bohu comes a voice Which utters an absurd command - Rejoice.