Vice (n.) does not make a thief, though every thief is vicious.
Vice (n.) is unconscious of itself; incontinence is not.
Vice (n.) is never chosen, said Socrates: ask anyone whether he would rather be just or unjust and no one picks injustice.
Vice (n.) is the privation of virtue — which is why some men are neither good nor bad, while a number must be odd or even.
Vice (n.) admits no mean of its own: there is no moderate amount of spite, envy or murder, for their very names already mean "bad."
Vice (n.) destroys the originating cause of action: the man ruined by pleasure no longer sees what he is acting for.
Vice (n.) is a thrown stone: it was in your power not to throw it, but once it leaves your hand you cannot call it back.
Vice (n.) we notice is the extreme our nature leans toward; the other extreme, being rare, escapes notice as if it did not exist — few men err by swallowing their anger when struck.
Vice (n.) often passes itself off as its neighbouring virtue: the lavish claim to be liberal, the self-willed dignified, the reckless brave — alike up to a point, beyond which the divergence escapes notice.
Vice (n.) is a greater evil than brutishness, though brutishness is more alarming, for in the brute there is no better part to be perverted — yet a bad man will do ten thousand times the evil of a brute.