The question is yet before the court.
The fellow is either a madman or a poet.
It is your concern when your neighbor's wall is on fire.
The common people are but ill judges of a man's merits; they are slaves to fame, and their eyes are dazzled with the pomp of titles and large retinue. No wonder, then, that they bestow their honors on those who least deserve them.
Add a sprinkling of folly to your long deliberations.
I praise her (Fortune) while she lasts; if she shakes her quick wings, I resign what she has given, and take refuge in my own virtue, and seek honest undowered Poverty.