Victory is by nature superb and insulting.
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.
Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!
The fellow is either a madman or a poet.
Humble things become the humble.
It is the false shame of fools to try to conceal wounds that have not healed.