These thought proverbs, anti-proverbs and axiomatic truths were created by Randy Hasper.
A good proverb is like a good foot-bridge troll, short-statured, sturdy and armed with a vicious bite.
Marriage has causes; divorce has clauses.
Compassion’s because is apathy’s pause.
Because was is fuzz; will be is buzz.
Because springs from does.
All love is born of sweet because.
Confuzzled is caused by bemuzzled.
“Because” frustrates children; it enrages adults.
Children don’t live by “why” alone but by every “because” that proceeds from the mouths of their parents.
The world’s abuzz because because; it sleeps for no apparent reason.
We suffer je ne sais quoi from emotional yaw.
Succeed then duck.
Fling muck then duck.
Love ducks nothing.
Duck compliments; take criticisms on the chin.
After every failure, duck your own punch.
Rake muck then duck.
A true friend is always found swinging punches beside you.
We all duck, but loyalty comes up swinging.
Email is a form of ducking.
You can’t duck your own muck.
Ideologues should worry; a is an epistemological theory.
There are no a‘s, just rays and bays.
An a is an a is a b to a z.
A is first and last and flirty fast.
A is the indefinite definite.
All you need is a — and the.
A bores; the roars.
A in all; pick and play well.
A is a way of thinking, while blinking.
Ancient thinkers invented a; subsequent ideologues ruined it.
A is non, yet first and strong.
There is some grey ‘tween aye and nay.
I is a romp, champ de la stomp.
Be bold or told.
What I refuse to do with you defines who we are.
I am what I do alone; we are what we do together.
I differentiate therefore we are.
Discovering I is curative, finding we superlative.
I am never not becoming me.
I am some I’s; we tend toward lies.
We know my effect; I know my cause.
I am human, no subcategory of anyone.
I am not you; we are the same.
Banish regret; exult in what’s yet.
Create using bits; exult using bytes.
The successful shed and molt, morph and exult.
Construct a catapult out of love, get in, launch it.
It’s never too late to jubilate.
Jolt and bolt — move and exult.
In pulsing veins, synapsing brains exult!
Dedicate ideas; consecrate feelings, celebrate understandings.
Rushed exults have after-jolts.
Evil exults in destructive results.
Honor good results with humble exults.
Surviving is overrated; consider the benefits of not.
We move on by forgetting; we prosper by remembering.
Take a dive; jive and survive.
If bent or rent then reinvent!
Survive being lost; wait to be found.
If you die, survive by rising from the dead.
What we go through shows us how to carry on.
Evil is making out by doing others in.
Survive your enemies; hang around to watch them reap what they’ve sown.
Winning has a chemistry which poisons human empathy.
One of the great ironies of life is that sometimes we survive our problems only to be done in by their solutions.
The lack of humility is a grave disability.
Humility goeth before a curtain call.
Every error gives the gift of more aware.
A bit of humility enhances civility.
Arrogance trips; humility catches.
Humility scoops up what arrogance has run over.
Scurrility, senility, step-fathers of humility.
Modesty hides what’s flaunted by pride.
To know your greatness explore your leastness.
Meekness is the finest weakness.
Servility, scurrility has no bearing on ability.
Pride thinks it’s all that; humility thinks it’s all not.
It will be a ghastly blast; the very first will come in last.
A theory is a flashlight; proven, it is the sun.
Light makes right not might.
The sunny side of life is always up.
Dance with the moon, hug the stars, kiss the sun, marry the light.
Four great things may be hidden: the sun, the moon, the stars and the truth.
Cheerfulness is a candle, enthusiasm a bonfire, hope the sun.
God took lessons from Vermeer — after providing him with materials.
Hold the hand of the child afraid of the dark and the adult afraid of the light.
Warmongers avoid light; peacemakers run into it.
Faith is a tiny boat in a thrashing sea sailing toward a shinning opening in a stormy sky.
The fire astounds, the sun amazes, but the truth — it bores us.
My second favorite activity is complaining; my first is not.
Familiarity is the gift card we receive in every day’s mail.
Gratitude is the best antidepressant, applause the most effective analgesic.
We are fully alive when we can’t keep up before we applaud again.
Gratefulness is the delete key for hatefulness.
In the United States, Thanksgiving is the day we take off so that we can all work.
Wise eyes prize what fools despise.
Appreciation is a floatie for the psyche still learning to swim.
A thank you a day keeps the grouch at bay.
Every success is upsetting; every quite moment a gift.
Everyday I work in my gratitude garden; I weed my appreciatives, feed my approbatories, water my applaudables and cultivate my commendables.
Love untold is fool’s gold.
Souls are geodes; broken, still beautiful.
As soft as gold does love unfold.
Life stratifies; leaders uplift.
Sea snails sit on the peaks of the Himalayas, so the lowly may yet be lifted up.
Pressure forges diamonds; struggle anvils psyches.
The ancient wasp is preserved in amber, the departed in story.
As the ocean turns the hot lava solid, so struggle turns doubt to certainty.
Wise parents throw no stony judgments at the glass houses of their children.
Truth is the basalt of the soul.
Stones can crack our homes; words can rip them to pieces.
False promises are the stone soup of loving relationships.
The wise leave no stony emotion unturned.
Metamorphic rocks are formed by heat and pressure, emotional bonds by honesty and truth.
A parent is a pattern; a child is a sentinel.
Observe the fads; they come in plaids.
Live redundantly; die abundantly.
Love drapes us in ribbons; hate wraps us in stripes.
Patterns are a death march; they drive us to a common grave.
From a distance, life looks like a mosaic; up close, it’s more prosaic.
It’s one thing after another with your father and your mother.
Act, eat, rest, play — the rhythms of the everyday.
When heart and soul and mind align — sublime.
If your road is blocked by a pattern, run over it with a risk.
Birth is worth.
The molten bold in souls is gold.
Knowledge wears a beautiful patina.
The wise place an extreme value on not knowing.
Human worth is beyond gender, wealth, appearance, and club member.
Aloneness can’t do any ciphers, subtract our worth, diminish girth.
Anchor decisions sticker worth but the wise reprice their own stuff.
Good lies in the direction of valuing what we haven’t.
Love forges a good; hate forges a hood.
What they did to you doesn’t define you.
Wisdom stops asking “why” and turn its faces to the good found in the present.
Other’s opinions don’t price us.
Within the you of the you of the very definitive and superlative you resides your you.
We know we have crossed over into maturity when we stop fighting with the people crossing with us.
Progress — it’s finding your people.
A gap in time is a road sign.
The good life has some pool rules: “No running, children; no diving, fools.”
A wise life is like an expensive wine — it’s waits.
The wise know their limits; the mature know when to move beyond them.
Maturity exists in knowing who to choose — and who to run like hell from.
No sea crossings are a match; no lives come from the same batch.
Lonely spaces lie between our origins and our destinations.
Finding our mate is the end; losing our mate is the beginning.
A good proverb is like a good foot-bridge troll, short-statured, sturdy and armed with a vicious bite.
A properly placed proverb is like a perfectly executed murder — untruth taken out with one shot.
Proverbs galore are the ultimate bore.
Maturity is when your weight is at its maximum and you know the paremiological minimum.
Proverbs tell the truth, with a stutter.
Fewer words, more truth.
Wise sayings stab sense into a few psyches, but the masses die unwounded by the truths they repeat.
The difference between a wise-ass comment and a proverb is print.
One man’s adage is another man’s baggage.
He came; he sawed; he proverbed.
A proverb a page makes the writer a sage.
A wise proverb is an A+ cliché.
You can wax proverbial, trying on adverbial.
Proverbs are refrigerated truth.
Modern life is a fire hose of information, but sometimes we need only a sweet drop of truth.
As the hummingbird sips the honeysuckle, so the wise sip aphorisms.
Sometimes we need small to process large.
Axioms anvil the mundane into the sublime.
Modern Thought Proverbs, Aphorisms and Epigrams