Nature and wisdom always say the same.

The finishing stroke of all sorrow.

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.

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.

Nature confesses that she has bestowed on the human race hearts of softest mould, in that she has given us tears.

The sweetest pleasures soonest cloy, And its best flavour temperance gives to joy.

Now we suffer the evils of a long peace; luxury more cruel than war broods over us and avenges a conquered world.