People Invent Gods To Explain Their Suffering.

Inevitably, Almost Everything We Say Is Either Quotation Or Paraphrase.

Early Every Morning An Old Woman Goes To The Market To Curse A Grocery Clerk, Who Curses Back.

The Aphorism: A Platitude That Swerves, Or Slides All The Way Around.

My Strengths Make Me Contemptuous. My Weaknesses Make Me Charitable.

Sign At The Orgy: Bodies Only.