Wit & Wisdom

by Jim Freund

3/2021

            Picture this scene. It’s late evening in your den. After several drinks, your aging companion begins to hold forth at length about the good old days – comparing them far too favorably with “what we’re stuck with today,” bubbling over with wistfulness and sentimentality.

            “Maybe so,” you say, “but I happen to subscribe to one wag’s quip as to most of what I’m hearing from you:

“Nostalgia is memory minus complexity.”

             Or how about this one. You’re in a meeting where someone has been voicing skepticism about “all this climate change stuff” he’s lately been bombarded with, and announces that “I’m not going to subscribe to it any further.”

            “Well,” you respond, “all I can say is, as a keen observer of such musings once observed:

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing it, doesn’t go away.”

            Or let’s say it’s that annual day in February when the legendary groundhog pops up to assess the weather. Your spouse is reciting with fervor the ritual observance of shadow and perseverance of winter. Your frustrated offspring is attacking that long-held theory with abundant scientific evidence to the contrary, but to no avail vis-à-vis your spouse. If your marriage is sufficiently robust to handle this jest, that’s a good point to intervene with: “Well, as Dorothy Parker once observed:

“You can’t teach an old dogma new tricks.”

             Delicious! I hope you agree with me that the ability to inject a catchy morsel of wisdom or a wry witticism into a conversation is something to be treasured. Assuming you do, though, we’re left with the obstacle of coming up with some handiwork of our own that fills the bill.

             Fortunately, however, other talented wordsmiths have been composing such choice bits over the years, and we might as well treat ourselves to what’s available.

             Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that you attempt to pass off someone else’s wisdom or wit as your own. No sir – no plagiarism for us borrowers. Any such observation should always be attributed to the appropriate source. Our ingenuity  lies in harvesting the gem, and then choosing the proper moment to inject it into the conversation.

            In cases where the morsel was originally composed by someone quite well-known, I recommend identifying the specific person – e.g., “As Winston Churchill was fond of saying, . . . .” Where the name is not quite so famous, you may wish to add a hint as to who the person is – “As author André Gide often remarked, . . . .”. If the progenitor’s name doesn’t mean anything to most people, then although attribution is still necessary, it can be rendered in somewhat more opaque fashion – e.g. “A keen observer of such matters is known to have said . . . .” or “As some wag once remarked, . . . .” or “The applicable aphorism here, which I recall reading somewhere or other, is . . . .”

             I’m a subscriber to the periodical, The Week (available both in print form and as an app), which contains a condensed version of weekly events. One of my favorite sections, titled Wit & Wisdom, supplies seven unrelated adages in each issue. Among these, there are usually one or two that stand out in my mind.

             For this essay, I’ve scoured that section in issues of The Week going back to May 2020, and selected for you about 45 of my favorites (including the three mentioned above) – roughly fifteen percent of the almost 300 published during this period.

             Now, you can’t achieve maximum effect with these gems if you simply inject them into a conversation out of context. To reap the full benefit, they should serve as your commentary (albeit borrowed) on what’s currently being discussed. (You may have somewhat more timing latitude as to witticisms, but even these are much better when they’re pertinent.) The Week is no help here, but yours truly will now endeavor to be of assistance.

             So, for instance, you might be a fan of Samuel Jackson’s well-known observation: “When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully” (included in The Week’s 2/26/21 issue). But it’s apt to fall flat if you quote it at a point in the proceedings where it has nothing to do with what’s on the table. On the other hand, if your spouse is fretting to you about your teenage offspring’s refusal to concentrate on an important school project whose deadline is approaching – and you both know the failure to meet that deadline is likely to prove disastrous – then by all means recommend to her a stern two-parent sitdown with the adolescent, which you’re confident will “concentrate his mind wonderfully”.

             So, in passing along these items for your use, I’ll try to suggest certain choice occasions (but certainly not the only times) to work them into a conversation. (In each case I’ll include here the name of the author, but you can, if you wish, adopt the “wag” or other indirect approach.) Okay let’s get going.

 * * *

             A big issue that you’re likely to encounter nowadays centers around concepts such as truth, lies, facts, and opinions. I’ve collected certain epigrams relevant to these matters that you can work into the flow of things during one of these discussions.

             You often hear people moan about how many more lies than truth are being dispensed nowadays – the clear implication being that this wasn’t the case in the “good old days.” Pick your spot to succinctly counter any such implication by harking back to what Jonathan Swift wrote three-plus centuries ago:

Falsehood flies, and the truth comes limping after it.

             Should the conversation then turn to the reasons why there seems to be a shortage of truth at present, you might want to offer up this explanation by Rebecca West.

The trouble about man is two fold. He cannot learn truths which are too complicated; he forgets truths which are too simple.

             When the discussion turns to the issue of facts versus opinions, it’s a good bet that someone will quote Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s famous dictum, “You are entitled to your opinion. But you are not entitled to your own facts.” That’s when you can get a laugh with, “Well, here’s how David Brinkley put it:

Everyone is entitled to my opinion.

             And to sustain the light vein, you can follow that up with some banter from Toni Morrison:

What’s the world for if you can’t make it up the way you want it.

             But should the mood become more somber, with one or two participants not giving facts the significance they’re due, and you feel the need to take charge, then quote Aldous Huxley in a stern voice:

 Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.

             Let’s say that someone who is aghast at what’s going on nowadays drops the familiar line that “truth is stranger than fiction.” Here’s your chance to jump in with Mark Twain’s explanation as to why this is so:

Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; truth isn’t. 

             But sadly, truth itself can prove to be a slippery concept. If someone is holding forth on his discovery of a certain “truth,” but you suspect that the spokesperson has not invested sufficient time in the search – and thus you question the result – a good way to have the last word on the subject is to quote Andre Gide:

Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it.

 * * *

             These next adages focus on what might be termed the experience of life itself.  This often involves discussing what went wrong, and who is responsible. For those of us facing advanced years, who wish to deflect the blame from ourselves and slough it off onto life itself, here’s a gem by Anthony Powell:

Growing old’s like being increasingly penalized for a crime you haven’t committed.

             On the other hand, if you believe that mankind has to accept responsibility for any and all missteps, quote John Steinbeck:

 I guess a man is the only kind of varmint sets his own trap, baits it, and then steps in it.

            By the way, a good corollary follow-up to either of Powell’s or Steinbeck’s morsels is this by Doris Lessing:

 As you get older, you don’t get wiser. You get irritable.

             Well, that’s serious stuff. If you want to lighten up the discussion, quote one or more of these three candid ladies, whose insights can be injected almost anywhere.

Coco Chanel: I only drink champagne on two occasions: When I am in love and when I am not.

Mae West: Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.  

Tallulah Bankhead: If I had to live my life again, I’d make the same mistakes, only sooner.

            In any sizeable group you’re bound to encounter a cynic. When that happens, and you want to put him/her in his/her place, I suggest bringing journalist Sydney Jiffarrio’s definition to bear.

 A cynic is not merely one who reads bitter lessons from the past; he is one who is prematurely disappointed in the future.

             One of the best known enduring cynics is Ambrose Bierce, author of The Devil’s Dictionary. Let’s say you’re in a group of friends who have just listened to a positive eulogy given someone as to whom they all had long held negative views. That’s when you can say,  “You’ll recall, of course, Ambrose Bierce’s definition of “epitaph”:

An inscription on a tomb, showing that virtues acquired by death have a retroactive effect.

             By the way, Bierce is also the bird who opined that “calamities” were of two kinds:

 Misfortunes to ourselves and good fortune to others.

             To which novelist Arnold Bennett offered what might be considered a flip side:

A true friend is one who likes you despite your achievements.

             I’ll close this section on life’s experiences with my favorite quote on the subject, by writer Minna Antrim, which can be worked into almost any conversation.

 Experience is a good teacher, but she sends in terrific bills.

 * * *

             Here are some witticisms to use when the topic turns to various categories of people – men, women, relatives, youth, and so on.

             Ladies, here for your usage are two fine putdowns of men. If the subject of how difficult it is to get a man to change happens so come up, just quote Natalie Wood:

The only time a woman really succeeds in changing a man is when he’s a baby.

             Gurgle, gurgle . . . . Meanwhile, if you’re of the view that men don’t accept their share of responsibility for problems that arise, zing a few of them with this from British politician Nancy Aster:

The first time Adam had a chance, he laid the blame on women.

             When you’re dishing to a good friend about your most troublesome relatives, and your diatribe generates sympathic comfort from your buddy, here’s a good line by writer Hugh Kingsmill to express your appreciation:

Friends are God’s apology for relations.

             Let’s say a group of oldsters are complaining about the hubris displayed by today’s youth. As long as no one in the elderly caucus has recently imbibed too much of the grape, you can indicate your accord with their commentary by quoting Lord Chesterfield’s dictum:

 Young men are apt to think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are apt to think themselves sober enough.

             When the subject turns to money – and provided you’re not in the company of any plutocrats – garner a knowing chuckle with this one by Dorothy Parker:

If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

            But if someone in that middle class grouping professes to be satisfied with his (or her) financial lot, he (or she) is a target for humorist Fran Lebowitz’s sharp observation:

There’s only two kinds of people in the world – the kind of people who think there’s such a thing as enough money, and the kind of people who have money.

* * *

            Many of these epigrams offer advice, especially those beginning with the words “never” or “always”. In terms of relationships, for instance, I came upon an excellent morsel of advice from Maya Angelou – to be used if you decide to offer some tough-love solace to a friend who has just violated the advice and is ruing his or her lot.

Never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option.     

            This next one admittedly comes from a dubious source – the godfather Michael Corleone – although it’s certainly usable with a friend who is waxing apoplectic over how badly someone is treating him.

Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment.

            Meanwhile, this advice by author Ann Patchett can be applied to many subjects, ranging from research projects to the results of online dating.

Never be so focused on what you’re looking for that you overlook the thing you actually find.

            When I observe friends worrying excessively, I often counsel them to cool it by offering this thought (paraphrasing a wag whose name I don’t recall), “Worry is like paying interest on a debt not yet due.” Now, however, I have a new way to get the point across, per humorist Erma Bombeck.

Worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere.

            When your friend is obsessing on some subject to a degree that concerns you, here’s a wonderful piece of advice by author Anne Lamont to offer up – using an observation familiar to anyone frustrated by balky electronic equipment, but giving it a wry twist directed to the befuddled individual.

 Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.

            Here for your use are three epigrams concerning past, present, and future, in case the opportunity should arise to inject them into the proceedings. The first is by author Mary Renault.

 There is only one kind of shock worse than the totally unexpected: the expected for which one has refused to prepare.

            The second, by Kurt Vonnegut, is aimed at those who insist that we learn from history in order to become better prepared for what’s ahead.

 History is merely a list of surprises. It can only prepare us to be surprised yet again.

            And third, if you’re dealing with a pessimistic guy who has been predicting his own slippage into gloom and doom, bring him up short with these words by Rebecca West.

Those who foresee the future and recognize it as tragic are often seized by a madness which forces them to commit the very acts which make it certain that what they dread shall happen.

* * *

            Here’s a few more for miscellaneous situations. If one of your really intelligent friends is feeling low over some mistake he/she made, reassure him/her by quoting Max Beerbohm:

Only mediocrity can be trusted to be always at its best. Genius must always have lapses proportionate to its triumphs.

            If you get fed up with someone who is always preaching change but doing nothing about it, tell him/her what psychotherapist Lori Gottieb said.

We can’t have change without loss, which is why so often people say they want change but nonetheless stay exactly the same.

            If you find yourself in a discussion where two people are arguing over how much sleep is requisite, quote the playwright Wilson Mizner as follows:

 The amount of sleep required by the average person is five minutes more.

            One of the most productive musicians ever, Duke Ellington, gave us his secret:

I don’t need time. I need a deadline.

             Here’s a nice one by comic Ricky Gervais to have in your quiver in case you become irritated by someone who strongly espouses atheism:

Saying atheism is a belief system is like saying not going skiing is a hobby.

            Are you bothered by an idealist? Try this one by H.L. Mencken on him/her:

 An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it is also more nourishing.

            One caution – you have to know when you can safely use one of these epigrams. For instance, if a lawyer friend is bemoaning the case he just lost to some aggressive opponents, I would not break out this quip by economist Frederic Bustiat.

The worst thing that can happen to a good cause is not to be skillfully attacked but to be ineptly defended.

            I’ll close with a bow to antiquity. Here’s a good one to use when you and your companion are discussing a third party whom you both feel is grossly overrated. “Well,” you say, “as the Roman historian Cato the Elder put it so well many centuries ago:

After I’m dead I’d rather have people ask why I have no monument than why I have one.

 * * *

             My final word on the subject is to invite you to come up with some tidbits along these lines yourself. I have tried this on occasion, and although my results never rose to these heights, I considered the process worthwhile.

            Here, for example, was one I wrote a while ago – rather ponderous I’ll admit, but a forceful expression of my advice to younger colleagues on the subject:

Never become mired in defending an unworkable idea out of some misguided ego or machismo motivation. Cut your losses and move on.

            By the way, the adage you come up with can even be somewhat inscrutable, as is this one I penned a ways back (but have never managed to work into a conversation):

Forgive anyone you’ve forgotten, but don’t forget which ones you haven’t forgiven.

            But here’s a little adage of mine, applicable to a variety of situations, that I hereby authorize you to use freely – identifying me by name (. . . “written by Jim Freund, a legend in his own mind . . .”), or simply as “a keen observer,” or even “some wag”:

If you have a choice between rising to the occasion or wilting under the load, choose wisely.