“This I regard as history’s highest function, to let no worthy action be uncommemorated, and to hold out the reprobation of posterity as a terror to evil words and deeds.”

All things atrocious and shameless flock from all parts to Rome.

The lust of fame is the last that a wise man shakes off.

Reckless adventure is the fool’s hazard.

Crime, once exposed, has no refuge but in audacity.

The desire for glory clings even to the best men longer than any other passion.

Posterity will pay everyone their due.

Benefits received are a delight to us as long as we think we can requite them; when that possibility is far exceeded, they are repaid with hatred instead of gratitude.

The most detestable race of enemies are flatterers.

Once killing starts, it is difficult to draw the line.

I am my nearest neighbour.

The worst hatred is that of relatives.

Solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant. They make a wilderness and they call it peace.

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.

The brave and bold persist even against fortune; the timid and cowardly rush to despair though fear alone.

They make a desert and call it peace.

It is of eloquence as of a flame; it requires matter to feed it, and motion to excite it; and it brightens as it burns.