Posts Tagged ‘wise sayings’

Gobble hobble; waste taste.

Taste is mace; appetite is a mugger.

No accounting for tastelessness.

Taste is learned, unfamiliar spurned.

Taste is a blast; it comes from the past.

Pleasant places, pleasant tastes.

Sweet, the treat; sugar, the hooker.

The great enemy of coffee — bad coffee.

We eat and wear our who-we-are

Wisdom lies in the taste of ones own reticence.

Positive — it’s appreciative.

Positive — it’s a cognitive additive.

Negative has a loud voice; positive is a quiet choice.

Go all out; be deficiently negative.

Positive may tap into a dark muse — dismissive.

Count your blessings; curses are all just guessing.

Sanguine channels oblivious.

Affirmative is curative.

Generosity is dope; charity is dopamine.

Those who love assure; those who care calm.

Everything speaks; not everything listens.

Everything has a language; for most of these we still need a Rosetta Stone.

The trees have been speaking; we have not been listening.

Nothing spoken has been forgotten.

Our soul is always trying to tell us what we need.

The voice of compassion we most need is our own.

As an adult we have one thing to say to ourselves as a child, “I love you so much.”

The universe speaks; our telescopes listen.

All earth’s living things speak; they have their own grammar; they use their own vocabulary.

Neurons speak a language with a complex syntax.

Oralism is colonialism; sound is no more superior to signs than white is to black.

Deafness is not in need of the hearing-world’s prescription; it has it’s own fully-enriched signing community.

Languages die when communities perish; their echo remains.

All the arts are in transit; the pleasure lies in watching them go by.

Commerce elevates the arts; the arts ennobles commerce.

Artistic is mystic, cryptic and viciously capitalistic.

Art for the rich; crafts for the poor.

Technology hatches the arts; the arts spawn technology.

The arts brew up a society.

The individual is the art of the group, the group the art of the individual.

Each person creates a unique museum of paintings, music and fashion in a room inside themselves.

The arts — they are pliers yanking out the deep emotions hidden in our souls.

Format begets the arts, the arts format.

Artistic is mystic, cryptic and viciously capitalistic.

All the arts look longingly over their shoulders.

If everything is art, nothing is art.

Everything carries a song; not everything sings it.

The universe sings; all our attempts are merely efforts to sing along.

Some sing themselves; others sing us all.

A song sings because it has a bird.

We sing sweet dreams at weddings and fond memories at funerals.

Our favorite songs tell us what we want to hear.

Melody colors words.

Songs rise out of sentience; they descends into sentiment.

We are birthed with a cry, we are laid to rest with a song.

A song comes from a heart.

A home’s is a refuge; a bed is a sanctuary.

A bed is a place to recover; a world is a place to live.

A bed is safe, but a world is an adventure.

An ocean is a bed then it’s a mountain.

We begin and end in a bed.

Life needs only a mattress, a meal, a mountain and a mate.

All standing is sustained by lying down.

Few lie in the bed they make; they lie in the bed someone else made.

To bed, to bed insomniac head.

Calamity makes sustained bedfellows.

Lives slow, die fast, leave a fully used corpse.

Mortality — it’s an ingenious solution for purposelessness, meanness, boredom, evil and everyday annoyances.

Immortality is created by memory — temporarily.

Immortality won’t bore us; it will encompass fascination within infinite complexity.

The longing for immortality is the longing for belonging.

Age is wasted on the old.

Live, give; mort abort.

Remember that you must die; do that so that you may fully live.

Beautician, mortician, detrition, transition.

Perform your values.

Achieve great things — being content.

Being is a form of doing.

We are born performing; we die at the end of the show.

We applaud performance; we memorialize being.

When we want an authentic experience we distain a superficial performance.

Your beliefs reside in your head; your values reside in your limbs.

All promises are best backed up by performances.

Do, rest, be, be, be.

Produce out of what flows from your heart not out of what demanded by your neediness.

To effect change in others, effect change in yourself.

Ruminate — then effectuate.

The over-examined life isn’t lived worthily.

To live fully, quit thinking overly.

Over-process; over-suffer.

Overthinking is a rollercoaster with a permanent loop and a never changing destination; you always get off where you got on.

Thinking about have fun is not having fun.

Eat, work and sleep as a rhythm — never worry that way.

To think of others is to escape yourself.

Laughter cures obsession.

Worry wastes; gratitude wonders.

It takes guts to shut up.

Guts will take you places brains can’t.

Follow your guts; drag your pain behind you.

Check your gut; use your brain.

You are your microbiome.

Audacity starts up the mountain; guts goes over top.

Pluck needs no luck.

Guts control arms and legs.

Spine will stand you in good stead.

Moxie has a limit — reality.

Brains can choose anything, even self-destruction, but guts choose life every time.

Poop is funny; more poop is funnier.

We aren’t as superior as we imagine; the ants had toilets before us.

Eat, poop, pray.

First we had dirt holes, then we had septic tanks; now we have congress.

The mouth is a fresh stream of clear water — or a sewer line.

We relieve one end in private, spew from the other in public.

Poop matters; so does it’s absence.

Talk poop to others if you want, but be prepared to have to change your clothes.

The chief reasons not to own a dog are hot, soft and steamy.

Life is a pile of poop, and a mountain of adventure and beauty.

Poop is the great human equalizer; even the beautiful and powerful squat and stink.

Suffer sickness silently; celebrate wellness loudly.

Love your broken body; honor your diseased self.

We are both our well and sick selves.

Devastated bodies have no answers — yet they persist.

A sick body is one path to a well soul.

Sickness draws our true friends to us.

Disease is strong; the human spirit stronger.

Pain is isolating; extreme pain obliterates the rest of the world.

Wait until it happens to you — then comes understanding.

Bodies — sick, harmed, dimorphic or aged — these are never shameful; they are simply what it means to be human.

Uninitiated pain is pain, gain is something quite else.

Quiet is hard, confrontation harder, quiet confrontations hardest.

The mind and heart must both collude to have a shot at quietude.

Never hold back on the affirmations of others.

To dodge a question is to throttle the truth; to answer honestly is to extend its life.

Our limited awareness is most eloquently evidenced by us sitting inactive and silent while billions of cries for help rise from the earth.

One may be blued, by too much quietude.

To completely isolate from other people is to put yourself in a coma with no one to wake you.

Balance: Hold calm in one hand; spread excitement with the other!

There may be sleep in pills but there is little rest.

The whole world could be healed of anxiety if it could be only be quietly held and hugged for long enough.

Avoid silence: speak up; add value.

There is no quieter place than the interior of a broken heart.

Telling doesn’t require yelling — but sometimes it helps.

Telling the truth will earn you public enemies; lying will earn you private ones.

Fine food we meticulously present; the truth, we carelessly slop.

A universe of safety lies within a confidant who loves you.

Conflict is the most common birthplace of the truth — and the lie.

We tell after we can’t not.

Honesty terrifies liars; truth dismantles them.

After telling avoid swelling.

Love allows space for truth.

These days the only way to get the truth about yourself is to hire a therapist or a detective.

All speakers elaborate; the really good ones lie shamelessly.

Embellish all your stories; this will engender widespread approval and universal credibility.

Ornamental is incremental; the thing is to know when to stop.

We need simple after complicated, complicated after too much simple.

A good story is like a good wine; better and better with more time.

Every retelling of a story is an opportunity to add to it.

Decorate every kitchen bowl; adorn every common soul.

Rococo increased vertigo; minimalism induced comas.

Baroque — it’s a choke.

We blog to unveil something important — ourselves.

We blog to lodge what we won’t dodge.

All points of view add to and stir the public stew.

The best blog is the most unique angle on the most common thing.

Blog your slog, but dialogue your fog.

Blogging is flirting.

Blogging is like raising your hand in class; you want to be heard; you aren’t sure you will be.

A good blog is more than a rant; it’s a chant.

Blog; unclog.

Be quiet; discover silence.

To discover a new idea reject an old one.

In reverie resides the soul’s recovery.

Debark self; voyage toward someone else.

What no one understands hovers in front of everyone.

Discovery invented jealousy.

Lovers discover others.

All mothers birth discoverers.

Every age is the age of discovery.

Find home; amble off; rush back.

Fly, walk; sigh, gawk.

It’s food-for-mood and pay-for-viewed.

Seeing isn’t understanding.

To rest well is hard work.

Fly the nest — eat, gawk, rest.

We discover ourselves in distant realms.

Visit Rome; discover home.

In foreign places we find our faces.

Be homeless — vacation.

Fashion a life you don’t have to keep getting away from.

Being is dreaming.

Authentic beings have no seems.

Be or not; thrive or rot.

When we cease to love we cease to exist.

Being is a non-nixed scene.

To exist; be missed.

Existence is resistance.

See we; be.

Deem not meme as being.

Being exists beyond the screen.

Be, because; becalm, bewas.

To be kind, be quiet.

Propagate kindness; treat people like pets.

Love is an sea, kindness a bay.

Kindness is savage graciousness hacked out of relentless understanding.

Kindness kills harshness; gentleness buries it.

Kindness is a choosen blindness.

It is not kind to not confront.

Rude, crude; kind, refined.

If kind is weak then proud is meek.

Kindness is found in the pause that lingers before the response.