There are any number of ways to characterize succinct expressions of commonsense wisdom—including such terms as proverbs, sayings, adages, aphorisms, apothegms, saws, and homilies—and they are constantly being supplemented by new expressions that have caught on and achieved some degree of cultural resonance.
Evidence of the ever-emerging nature of such sayings appears in The [Yale] Dictionary of Modern Proverbs (2012), which consists of discussions of "more than 1400" (but presumably less than 1500) proverbs that have emerged since 1900—fragments of relatively new folk wisdom like "The sky is the limit" (1909) and "It's a jungle out there" (1951) and "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" (1960) and "The game isn't over till the fat lady sings" (1984) and "Even a dead cat will bounce" (1987) and "He who dies with the most toys still dies" (1993) and "If you aren't lying, you aren't trying" (2004).
Conversely, popular sayings of the past often fall into disuse and become unknown to succeeding generations. Thus the following proverbs—among many others—reported by Nathan Bailey in his Dictionarium Britannicum (1736) are new to me: "Soldiers in peace are like chimnies in summer." "Every man's nose will not make a shoeing-horn." "The clerk forgets that ever he was a sexton." "Drunken folks seldom take harm." "A bushel of March dust is worth a king's ransom." "Light suppers make clean sheets." "An inch breaks no squares."
The point is not that we are poorer than our forebears in such wisdom (although I don't doubt that I would be wiser if I understood why it makes sense to say "An inch breaks no squares"), and that our progeny will be poorer than us, but that proverbs are a kind of river of commonsense wisdom that replenishes itself as it rushes along.