The multitude is always in the wrong.

The press, the pulpit, and the stage, Conspire to censure and expose our age.

'Tis I that call, remember Milo's end, Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend.

Men still had faults, and men will have them still; He that hath none, and lives as angels do, Must be an angel. - Wentworth Dillon, Earl of Roscomon,

Immodest words admit of no defence; For want of decency is want of sense.

Pride (of all others the most dang'rous fault) Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought.