Power (n.) is everything — a handful of might is better than a bagful of right.
Power (n.) rests not on horses, arms or a full treasury but on steadfast friends of solid character.
Power (n.) is exactly what orators have least of in the city — if power means something good for the one who has it.
Power (n.) has no color or shape; it is identified only by what it is set over and what it does.
Power (n.) that means only doing whatever you see fit belongs to anyone who walks into a crowded market with a dagger up his sleeve.
Power (n.) breeds the worst sinners: Homer's eternally punished are kings — Tantalus, Sisyphus, Tityus — while the wicked commoner Thersites is spared, and happier for it.
Power (n.) is worth having for a moderate man only because it lets him confer great benefits — never for robbing the rich and calling it a gift to the poor.
Power (n.) is no good to anyone without intelligence: doing whatever you see fit, when you lack sense, is simply a bad thing.
Power (n.) joined to wise judgment and self-restraint gives birth to the best constitution and laws to match; there is no other way.
Power (n.) on a grand scale always makes onlookers think: what results it would bring, if only someone knew how to use it — a hackneyed thought, and probably wrong.