The love of fame is a love that even the wisest of men are reluctant to forgo.
Even honor and virtue make enemies, condemning, as they do, their opposites by too close a contrast.
Secure against the designs of men, secure against the malignity of the Gods, they have accomplished a thing of infinite difficulty; that to them nothing remains even to be wished.
By punishing men of talent we confirm their authority.
By general consent, he would have been capable of ruling, had he not ruled.
To rob, to ravage, to murder, in their imposing language, are the arts of civil policy. When they have made the world a solitude, they call it peace.