Those tiny notifications are ego reified, tugging at you incessantly, like a child at its mother in the supermarket, in the cereal aisle.
We all come into this world with our little egos equipped with individual horns. If we don’t blow them, who will?
Persistent detractors are a mark of distinction, as everyone discovers when he acquires them.
The aphorist strives for the shock of recognition, the moment it dawns on the reader that, yes, that is just what other people are like.
Reality, n. The court to which one eventually appeals after losing competitions for power, wealth, and status.
We are apt to disagree with whatever does not provide an occasion to congratulate ourselves.
People who refuse to be categorized are all alike.
Where others regard us as of no use, we fancy ourselves despised.
Vision, n. What no one but yourself can see.
No one calls anything important that disconfirms his prejudices.
Self-criticism, painful as it may be, at least affords the opportunity to think about oneself.