The gods, likening themselves to all kinds of strangers, go in various disguises from city to city, observing the wrongdoing and the righteousness of men.
What is this word that broke through the fence of your teeth, Atreides?
Porkchops and bacon, my two favorite animals.
The leader, mingling with the vulgar host, Is in the common mass of matter lost.
Hateful to me as are the gates of hell, Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, Utters another.
The man who acts the least, upbraids the most.