Summer’s on its way out, and the first browning leaves of the sycamores here in Manhattan fill me with anticipation for the sharp, crispy crunch of summer’s canopy become autumn’s carpet underfoot. Snap, vitality, the tart taste of hard cider, the quickened pace of harvest time, fall fairly begs for concision:
The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and then after heavy use it gets resurfaced with cynicism.
Conservatives like me were liberals mugged by liberalism.
The first step toward moral renewal: sincere hypocrisy.
Why do we often ignore reason? Because she often betrays her promises.
Pascal’s Rule: The certainty with which we can know things is inversely proportional to their significance for our lives.
A true patriot weeps more often than he brags.
Beware living your ideas rather than your life.
Yes, love is often blind, lacking cool objectivity and critical distance. But the deepest truths are written in braille.
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