Every representation, even of an orgy, is a sublimation.
After Voltaire: envy is chained to the portico of the temple of glory and can neither enter nor leave.
Seeing my malevolent face in the mirror, my benevolent soul shrinks back.
Think carefully before asking for justice. Mercy might be safer.
After my spectacular failures, I could not be satisfied with an ordinary success.
A sense of absurdity interferes with my efforts to appear venerable.