There are two levels of play in the “Proverbs Game”:
the big leagues and the little ones.
In the latter, note is taken of human behavior;
in the former, that which produces the latter.
Men love the past,
for although it should be well dead-in-repetition,
through memory it is alive and diverse.
A distant uncle of one of the ole Philosophers-In-The-Park
noted in his latest Letter-To-The-Editors:
“If it wasn’t for words people would treat each other like dirt.”
While waiting in the rain, this one chap told me,
“Being able to quote oneself is what makes life
in the City enjoyable,” to which his brother added,
“If not tolerable.” (Their dear mother shortly
delivered their collective galoshes which brought
a predictable end to the neural inclemency.)
Many people wait a long time
who could have, just as well,
waited a short one.