Here we all live in a state of ambitious poverty.
A lucky man is rarer than a white crow.
The examples of vice at home corrupt us more quickly and easily than others, since they steal into our minds under the highest authority.
Who is to guard the guards themselves?
This is his first punishment, that by the verdict of his own heart no guilty man is acquitted.
A man’s word Is believed just to the extent of the wealth in his coffers stored.
But who guards the guardians?
Rare indulgence produces greater pleasure.
Nature, in giving tears to man, confessed that he Had a tender heart; this is our noblest quality.
Now that no one buys our votes, the public has long since cast off its cares; for the people that once bestowed commands, consulships, legions, and all else, now meddles no more and longs eagerly for just two things – bread and circuses.
Even savage animals can agree among themselves.
Poverty is bitter, but it has no harder pang than that it makes men ridiculous.
It is a wretched thing to live on the fame of others.
It is sheer madness to live in want in order to be wealthy when you die.
Many suffer from the incurable disease of writing, and it becomes chronic in their sick minds.
Many commit the same crime with a very different result. One bears a cross for his crime; another a crown.
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? – Who will watch the watchers?
There is hardly a case in which the dispute was not caused by a woman.
One globe seemed all too small for the youthful Alexander.
It is difficult not to write satire.