The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.

If grass is greener on the other side, why wait at this side of the fence?

While the archetype of the tinker is generally the whipping person in classical bedtimes stories, this particular individual was a tinker by trade and just happened to be economically disadvantaged.

An avalanche is just a snowflake that got pissed off.

It is proved...that things cannot be other than they are, for since everything was made for a purpose, it follows that everything is made for the best purpose.

Satire lies about literary men while they live and eulogy lies about them when they die. [Fr., La satire ment sur les gens de lettres pendant leur vie, et l'eloge ment apres leur mort.]