They appear occasionally, and it is necessary to fix them on the first available support: sheets of paper, book flaps, newspaper folds, advertising leaflets.  Later on a notebook or exercise book. Otherwise, that specific sequence of words, born of instinct, that miracle of language, which breaks away from the usual semantic order, will never return.
Perhaps the concept it contains will return, but not its shell. And the aphorism is often a question of shell, of surface, the fruit of a mysterious combination of signs, or sounds.
That is why this collection does not follow a temporal scansion or a defined order, it does not respond to a design, but shuffles, through a game of dice, a fragmentary material that reflects the mutations of the subject and the restlessness of the writing. To paraphrase Stanislaw Jerzy Lec, it is indeed true that "you cannot comb an aphorism".