Comforting Cliché's

I’ve been soft-shoeing around the edges of some of life’s vicissitudes this week. I won’t explain that further because it is not really my story to tell, but I find myself spouting a lot of clichés in consequence. That’s OK. Clichés are clichés because most of them are truisms and truisms tend to be… well… true. I remember back in high school one of my youngish teachers (perhaps 27) commenting that one of his most annoying life lessons was discovering that all the trite old sayings from his parents at whom he used to roll his eyes were true.
 
He wasn’t entirely right about that. Take Nietzsche’s “What does not kill makes stronger.” That is only half-true. Sometimes what does not kill permanently maims. Assuming a harm is fully recoverable, however, Fred was onto something.
 
My teacher was largely right however. One really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Life really is too short to sweat the small stuff. Actions do speak louder than words. We do all share a common fate. OK, the grass might not really be greener on the other side of the fence, but it sure looks that way. (Horace actually translates as “the crops are riper in the neighbor’s field,” which I like a bit better.)
 
What about clichés that are not homilies but just hackneyed turns-of-phrase such as eat one’s words, cruel to be kind, wild goose chase, be-all and end-all, heart of gold, and too much of a good thing (all Shakespeare)? In everyday conversation I don’t think they’re so bad. They convey the point in a way our listeners readily understand. Not everything we express need be creative original oratory. We can save that for our acceptance speech for... um… whatever we’re accepting.

 
Don’t get me wrong (a cliché admonition), I value creativity in expression, too, but perhaps it is more important in one’s fiction, essays, poetry, and reportage. Otherwise, it is no big offense to use clichés all the live long day (Shakespeare again).
 

Biff Rose – Ballad of Clichés (1969)