Fools drool for a rule; eclectic’s hectic for electric.
It takes a pox to think outside convention’s box.
Motley shuns the oh-so-snotly.
Shall not, shall so.
Eclectic shifts its own selectric.
It takes a fop to lop the top of reason’s stop.
My mind’s not fond of pro or con.
Eclectic wins what taste offends.
All-embracing is effacing.
Eklektikos removes the dross.
Eclecticism is an open mind flying
To live, forgive.
To desire to forgive is to begin to do so.
Forgive-stance may keep its distance.
Vengeful optics are myopic-cycloptic.
What wisdom overlooks, foolsdom writes in books.
Remittance has no required forgetance.
What we pardon doesn’t harden.
Exonerate, retain some hate of bait and fate and highest rate.
Defamatory — it’s inflammatory.
To heal a grudge, first do no krudge.
God is the master of the art of forgiveness.
As long as there’s a will, there’s a fray.
Will what you want, then prepare to swerve.
The will’s a pill for Jack and Jill.
When will met will, volition stood still.
Will once; act a bunch.
To will or not to will; now there’s the real high-rolling deal.
With our wills we may reform our souls.
The will is a small rudder, the emotions a great sea.
The will’s the piano that we play all day.
Each soul runs it own bootlegging still, to craft its own strong prohibition will.
With will we mill, swill, grill and shrill, and sometimes kill.
The precious swill of the best thrill we do not will.
Demons visit every season, welcomed by our twisted reason.
A demon a day keeps reason at bay.
A demon refined waltzes with mankind.
Keep your enemies close and your demons closer.
One man screamin’ is another man’s demon.
You can’t put all your demons in one casket.
The dope you need is a demon indeed.
The demons help those who only help themselves.
Don’t let a sleeping demon lie.
Greed is the mother of all demons, pride the proud father.
Tomfoolery is our mental costume jewelry.
Class clowns know no bounds; school scholars wear tight collars.
Wise men’s speeches are never done; fools know when they have won.
The rich grow richer by abusing humanity, but fools wealth up with a sweet consanguinity.
Foolery will fink on wisdom’s wink.
Fools rush in where someone needs to tread.
A family laughing won’t be bashing.
Amuse your wife; avoid the knife.
Foolery has a sportive scent; wisery smells like malcontent.
It takes a great education to reduce a man to no opinion.
Jibber-walky, ribber-talky, hasher-basher’s docky-squacky.
Spear-din and slaughter-dew, old as old and new as new.
The battle-blade in hell was made, but earth knows how to make a plough.
Battle-grim, dragon-din, safe-world win.
Shepherds-of-evil are sword-hungry medieval.
Gold-friends have dirt ends.
Every bomb’s a melting blade, every man’s a certain fade.
Wielder-of-wonder throws rain and throws thunder.
Stone bright, stone bright, we stone our neighbors, dark with right.
The bold life won is too soon done.
The sky candle loves not the warring-vandal.
A bone-house, our sin-flecked world, brave-saved.
Sword sleep won’t keep; there’s so much more than gore and snore.
Like the wave-floater plying the whale-road, so the Wielder-of-All, safe-sloughs the storm-swashed soul.
The wise word-hoarder is the brave realm warder.
The golden torque is lots of work.
No demi-zemi in the hemi has the power of a femi.
Auto-micro-macro-psycho, demo-proto-vitro-tycho.
Ing your being, dare, be seen.
My meta ology needs no apology.
Re and un are super fun.
Va-va-voom suave-a-ka-boom.
Un if your yum to everyone.
Every -ess isn’t success.
Sub-ly super; dys-ly duper.
De-negged am I; I am psy-high.
One quasi in the bush is worth two anti’s and a shush.
To gen-a-ment de-vi-o-lent.
Death has no fort ‘gainst its own mort.
Humanity has no core, just appendages galore.
Core values are overrated; it’s core actions that really matter.
As the volcano one day gushes its hot lava so the wounded soul one day exudes its core emotion.
Forget the common cold; cure the common core.
Eat the whole apple; core your anger.
War’s the gore that tore our core.
A core sample per day keeps the psychiatrist away.
At the center of every human conflict lies humanity’s core reactor leaking.
The body wastes away, but the core within the core of the quintessential core of the soul is never lost.
Story is our very first glory; the psyche’s core is made of lore.
Be a chum; keep mum.
Disaster opens the door; good friends walk in.
A friend with proceeds is a friend indeed.
Compassion confers companions.
Keep your friends close, your family closer and your smart phone closest.
Show me your friends; I’ll show you some enemies.
Two are better than one, unless betrayal ends the fun.
As iron sharpens iron, so one tongue sharpens another.
A man without a single friend will set upon all other men.
Be a net; catch friends.
A friend attends the bitter end.
Small and inane will make you sane.
Small holds the rank of swank.
Small in all; bit in every it.
To hold a child is to hold the universe.
Gratitude arrives in bits, ingratitude in blitz and fits.
The pun is mightier than the board.
Small anxieties repeat the first miracle; they makes a universe out of nothing.
Consider everything as if it counts — it does.
The micro-flotsam are forget-some.
Don’t worry about comets, the real danger lies in commas.
The mightiest moment is this quick and quarky nanosecond’s “is.”
Give me details or give me death.
All hail the power of the small detail.
Nothing says something like one thing.
Every rain drop sings the doo wop.
Gratitude lies in minutiae.
The pudding’s proof is tongue and tooth.
Beauty lies to the beholder.
God is in the details; the devil lies in generalities.
Up and down and lark and bark, celebrate the antiquark.
Idealists love generalities; realists love details.
Even the most massive mountain ranges deteriorate into the smallest pieces.
Plan with your hands; think with your feet.
To muse, recuse and then defuse.
Imply, infer then just go there.
Think to the brink — then jump.
All in; mind off.
Deep deliberates at every depth.
Diet, quiet; stew, renew.
Fools follow formulas, the wise wonk.
Ideate then roller skate.
Think, thank, thunk; avoid a funk.
Mull it all terrestrial ball, the ancient fall, the modern pall.
What you confuse, fix when you muse.
Thinking is gray scaling.
It’s your choice: you can join a political party, or you can keep thinking.
Clothing is the envelope, skin the invitation.
Every invitation is packed in assumption and sealed with hope.
To be invited to help is to be cloaked with power.
Always invite your spouse to fight or suffer the rot of relational blight.
Take a nasty social swipe; craft a tardy disinvite.
To welcome war is to invite a serial killer to the diner table to eat with the family.
Healthy souls compose their own invitations.
Love brings home every quark, snark and scruffy bark.
Every invitation is a compliment.
The one making the most invitations wins.
Looking at one thing we miss another.
Those with their eyes only on God in heaven will broadside their neighbors on earth.
Observation invented the observatory.
Seeing is being; eyes not required.
Test every trust; trust not every test.
Theories mind rodents.
Theory brings up what observation shuts up.
Theology is subject to reality.
Reliability drinks at the trough of reproducibility.
The premise is in the pattern.
The mind arrests the eye and carries it off to prison.
Eye spy or die.
Seasoning is the mother of fine food; fire is its father.
Cooking is all timing, testing and tasting.
Cooking is a science; eating is an art.
The tongue is the world’s top chef.
Hunger invented cooking; appetite fine cuisine.
Chefs of a feather stir together.
What is at hand makes the chef’s brand.
The good chef owns the hungry mouth.
There is cooking, and then there is fine art.
Cooking is like golf, but with better putting.
A good cook makes a happy family.
For the ancients to eat well it took a stick, a rock and a fire; moderns require, a microwave, stove top, oven, cookware, flatware, utensils, garbage disposal, automatic dishwasher, TV, laptop, and a cooking show.
There is me in every she and he and we.
Eyes are made of cries and sighs and also highs and sometimes lies.
We crack perception’s door, then slam it on reality’s foot.
The more accurate the perception the more obvious the imperfection.
We meld our maze and map to match.
Self-perception loves deception.
The leaning tower of perception will one day fall to the facts.
We are what we can’t see.
What we don’t percieve, we invent.
Constancy is perception’s best friend.
Reality is dark; perception is a flashlight.
Those who don’t trust their eyes will fall down in broad daylight.
Modern Thought Proverbs, Aphorisms and Epigrams 