Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses.

Like warmed-up cabbage served at each repast, The repetition kills the wretch at last.

We are too quick to imitate depraved examples.

There will he nothing more that posterity can add to our immoral habits; our descendants must have the same desires and act the same follies as their sires. Every vice has reached its zenith.

Death alone discloses how insignificant are the puny bodies of men.

Rare indulgence produces greater pleasure.

Some men make fortunes, but not to enjoy them for, blinded by avarice, they live to make fortunes.