Two things only the people actually desire: bread and circuses.
No wicked man knows happiness, and least of all the seducer of others.
The finishing stroke of all sorrow.
They whose sole bliss is eating can give but that one brutish reason why they live.
An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts.
Honesty's praised, then left to freeze.