About this post
This is a continuation of the previous topic on aphoristic writing. But these are all new aphorisms; none are repeated from the previous post. If you want to hear more about the process of aphoristic writing and how I see its significance, I recommend listing to the audio introduction in Aphorisms Part I.
Again I’ve added time signatures for each aphorism so you know where they start if you want to go back, skip, or revisit any later.
After the aphorisms at the bottom of this page, I’ve offered some basic ideas and principles you can apply to your own aphoristic writing for those interested in giving it a go. Though I’d say most if not all of these principles can be applied to writing generally.
The Aphorisms
:50 Dialectic, metaphor, and tasks are superior teaching tools; lectures about blacksmithing can only go so far in forging a sword.
11:10 A man swept up in an ideology is not so different from a boat swept up in a gale at sea; if I want to know where he’s going at every turn, I won’t ask him; I’ll ask the wind.
17:12 The common false sense of intuitive empathy originates from the same fundamental blindness as the common false sense of “free” will: it is a blindness to the moving parts which add up to these impressions, and even a tendency to actively look away from them in the name of utility.
26:04 There is shame in lying; more still in lying without levity.
28:15 “You should be nicer,” can reliably be translated as, “You should be more accommodating to those who nurture a strong fondness for bullshitting themselves.”
30:11 To build a ship requires great designs, skill, and time; but there is no shortage of those who in their haste would try to cross the sea on a raft.
33:23 To become wholly “good,” in the common moral sense: doesn’t this mean adopting a decisively bad character?
36:51 Just as poisoning the enemy water supply erodes their vitality, degrading the environment in which attention is cultivated erodes capacity for thorough reasoning and strategy; and it’s easy enough to find those willing to dump sewage in a well.
42:38 A basic understanding of ‘fairness’ as a mechanism of leverage, rather than an objective virtue, can help dispense with the delusion that love and war are special cases.
44:41 The human is a judging animal, and in fact has access only to judgments; to be convinced others are not judging me means I must fail utterly to notice the thousands of judgements I make about others daily: my task is therefore not discerning whether I am being judged, but rather noting this as a statistical certainty—then deciding what to make this mean for me.
50:51 Aggression is wielding a sword to take by force what is not given willingly; passive aggression is walking through town in a bad disguise, whispering, “I have a sword”—while in fact having no sword or no knowledge of how to use one—and hoping this alone will produce enough inconvenience for passersby to give up their goods.
54:44 In China there is a popular folk wisdom: eateries with the longest lines have the best food. And this is held as self-evident almost universally, without a trace of sarcasm. What a blessing that the fatal flaw in what people call democracy can be learned after a few nights waiting in line for food poisoning.
59:07 There is no worse insult to a man’s character than a failure to mean what he says and say what he means; though it can also be said there are few things that could damage his popular favor more than such uncompromising integrity.
1:06:33 The presence of sadness is less cause for concern than its absence.
1:10:16 The moment one values deeply is the moment he begins to learn there are forces both in favor of and in opposition to his value—and as an extension of his value, conflict with this opposition is only natural: to vote in favor of a world without conflict means to imprison the act of valuing itself.
1:14:15 I can use a spoon to hammer in a nail which holds up a sign; the success of this endeavor is neither a testament to the efficacy of the spoon as a hammering device, nor the truth of what’s written on the sign.
1:20:25 If I reflect on the moments in my life when other beings brought me joy, in exactly none of those moments were they trying to bring me joy; still I often find myself preoccupied with pleasing others.
1:24:29 Outtro
Aphoristic Writing Guide
Here are 10 key principles and ideas I keep in mind when writing and revising aphorisms.
Make sure it’s real. A good bet is to base an aphorism’s insight in first-hand experience, something seen and felt—preferably something seen and felt deeply over a long time.
Let it compost. There’s no rush. If the idea falls out of you clear and well-composed, that’s great. But often it isn’t this way. If it feels unclear or lacking something, it might be wise to write down the basic idea in short-hand, or even just the subject, then return to it after some time (a few hours, a day, a week, a month) to expand the idea and begin work on the phrasing. While you’re not working on it, keep it in the back of your mind; feel it out in the commonplace moments and in-betweens.
Put it through fire. This is crucial. It’s tempting in aphoristic writing to make broad and final statements for their own sake. They sound profound, they call attention—and in a way, revealing a general truth from a specific example, analogy, or metaphor is one of the defining characteristics of aphoristic wiriting. But this only works if the fundamental statement is deeply true, or if the reader is stupid. A key question I try to ask of every general statement is, “Are there any exceptions to this?” After some days, weeks, or months of earnestly trying to find exceptions, I’ll know whether I’ve struck something valuable, if I need to change something, or abandon the idea altogether. But a nearsighted aphorism will be pretentious and, frankly, embarrassing.
“Murder your darlings.” Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch once wrote, “Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—wholeheartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to the press. Murder your darlings.” There is an inclination to get attached to writing itself, or to some aspect of convention, delivery, or pretense. If it doesn’t feel right, it isn’t. Follow this instinct ruthlessly. Be wary of undue attachment to the ‘sound’ of things, of style for style’s sake, and be willing to let go of even your most beloved phrases or ideas if they are untrue true or in service of untruth.
Mess with metaphors. An aphorism is meant to make the reader work out, apply, and try on the insight for size. If everything is spelled out literally, it usually falls flat and fails to engage the reader in the process. Very literal aphorisms can work, but they’d better be striking in some other way.
Metaphors say something without saying it. This is powerful because it forces the reader to ponder instead of passively listen and, if used right, enables the writer to communicate a lot of subtlety in few words. Try to use metaphors about which you have some personal feeling or experience. This will make your metaphor original. And you’ll tend to be more dextrous in handling familiar objects.
Make them touch it. Specifics are more interesting, because they call on the reader’s senses. There is a tendency in philosophical writing to fall back on the abstract and conceptual. Talk about tall, Spanish Rafael, with an obsidian silk mane—not a guy with black hair. Try using descriptions that can easily be felt. Consider how “…the inevitable neck ache that comes from looking over one’s shoulder” is more engaging than “worrying about unexpected harm from someone in your past.” It gives the reader a tactile landmark grounded in a relatable body sensation. Use this sparingly, when it’s time to make the impact, and it can drive an insight home.
Put a square peg in a round hole. And let everyone see you do it. Try using words in unconventional ways that calls attention to either the word itself or the meaning of the sentence. For example, “It’s easy enough to find those willing to dump sewage in a well.” Easy to find? Who’s looking for this? Nobody wants to find these people. It’s a weird thing to say, so it calls attention to itself. Or consider, “…waiting in line for food poisoning.” Food poising is not something for which people wait in line. And yet, this is occurring without their awareness. Using phrases and words unconventionally can make the reader pause, and even laugh if you’re lucky.
Lop it off. Be scrupulous about cutting off the fluff and excess—without sacrificing anything crucial. Try to say what you you want to say in half the space you used at first. See if you can do it. If you can’t, so what? Save the old draft and go back to it. Then try another way.
Lock it up. Try to make the aphorism self-contained. It should feel “complete.” It’s okay to be a bit ambiguous in some cases. But even ambiguity can have a feeling of being finished, self-contained, leaving nothing to be desired. One simple way to do this is to break the aphorism into two parts: the first opens up a question, makes a vague observation that doesn’t mean much on its own, or maybe leaves a mystery; the second finishes what the first started with tangible specifics that leave a mark in an unexpected way. Here’s a simple example.
Many love going to yoga class because it helps them relax and let go after a long day at work; bars are popular for the same reason, and yet we don’t sell rum and coke as a health elixir.
I just improvised this, and I don’t think it’s a very good aphorism. I just mean to demonstrate the technique.
Let loose! Blam back font, make you want, black moth stole trucks from your aunt, good grief bricks back home with feet trying tooth decay. I just wrote that nonsense without thinking, analyzing, editing or stopping myself ay any point. If you feel stuck somewhere in your process, or even if you don't, try stream of consciousness exercises. They can help you warm up, unstick yourself, or free up a phrase that’s been wanting out. Set a timer for 30 seconds, for example, or two minutes. It doesn’t matter, just set a timer. Then write. And don’t stop or pause for any reason until the timer is finished. The goal is to write without editing yourself internally. You can even write nonsense, non-words, or repeat words. Start with no constraints at all, and allow yourself to write whatever flows out. Then you can play with adding parameters gradually. Maybe after a few tries you choose a loose subject before you start, like, “what I did today.” Then you can gradually get more specific from there. But still try to be limber with it, and let nonsense come out whenever it wants to. I first started practicing this exercise in 2010, and it’s proven invaluable to me in tapping into my more creative ideas, exploring unconventional delivery, and getting straight to the truth of what I want to express.