"Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust; Such is the lightness of you common men."

"Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude?"

"The play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general."

"He himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude."

"Faith, there have been many great men that have flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground."

"Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain? Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood— Thou many-headed monster thing, Oh, who would wish to be thy king?"

"Vox Populi, vox Dei."

"The public is a bad guesser."

"The proverbial wisdom of the populace in the streets, on the roads, and in the markets, instructs the ear of him who studies man more fully than a thousand rules ostentatiously arranged."

"Trust not the populace; the crowd is many-minded."

"The people's voice is odd, It is, and it is not, the voice of God."

"Paucite paucarum diffundere crimen in omnes."

"There is in a religious sense no public, but only individuals, because the religious is earnestness, and earnestness is: the single individual: yet every human being, unconditionally every human being, which one indeed is, can be, yes, should be – the single individual."

"If I tried to imagine the public as a particular person (for although some better individuals momentarily belong to the public they nevertheless have something concrete about them, which holds them in its grip even if they have not attained the supreme religious attitude), I should perhaps think of one of the Roman emperors, a large well-fed figure, suffering from boredom, looking only for the sensual intoxication of laughter, since the divine gift of wit is not earthly enough. And so for a change he wanders about, indolent rather than bad, but with a negative desire to dominate. Every one who has read the classical authors knows how many things a Caesar could try out in order to kill time. In the same way the public keeps a dog to amuse it. That dog is the sum of the literary world. If there is some one superior to the rest, perhaps even a great man, the dog is set on him and the fun begins. The dog goes for him, snapping and tearing at his coat-tails, allowing itself every possible ill-mannered familiarity – until the public tires, and says it may stop. That is an example of how the public levels. Their betters and superiors in strength are mishandled – and the dog remains a dog which even the public despises. The leveling is therefore done by a third party; a non-existent public leveling with the help of a third party which in its significance is less than nothing, being already more than leveled."

"Venale pecus."

"Reason stands aghast at the sight of an "unprincipled, immoral, incorrigible" publick; And the word of God abounds in such threats and denunciations, as must strike terror into the heart of every believer."

"Odi profanum vulgus et ardeo. Favete linguis."

"Mobilium turba Quiritium."

"The leader, mingling with the vulgar host, Is with the common mass of matter lost!"

"No whispered rumours which the many spread can wholly perish."

"Knowing as "the man in the street" (as we call him at Newmarket) always does, the greatest secrets of kings, and being the confidant of their most hidden thoughts."

"Wer dem Publicum dient, ist ein armes Thier; Er quält sich ab, niemand bedankt sich dafür."

"Ich wünschte sehr, der Menge zu behagen, Besonders weil sie lebt und leben lässt."

"Classes and masses."

"A stiff-necked people."

"Bona prudentiæ pars est nosse stultas vulgi cupiditates, et absurdas opiniones."

"The man in the street does not know a star in the sky."

"For who can be secure of private right, If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might? Nor is the people's judgment always true: The most may err as grossly as the few."

"The multitude is always in the wrong."

"La clef des champs."

"This many-headed monster, Multitude."

"Hence ye profane; I hate you all; Both the great vulgar, and the small."

"Mobile mutatur semper cum principe vulgus."

"Vulgus ex veritate pauca, ex opinione multa æstimat."

"Qui ex errore imperitæ multitudinis pendet, hic in magnis viris non est habendus."

"Le public! le public! combien faut-il de sots pour faire un public?"

"The public! why, the public's nothing better than a great baby."

"The tyranny of a multitude is a multiplied tyranny."

"The individual is foolish; the multitude, for the moment is foolish, when they act without deliberation; but the species is wise, and, when time is given to it, as a species it always acts right."

"The great unwashed."

"Vox populi habet aliquid divinum: nam quomo do aliter tot capita in unum conspirare possint?"

"Nec audiendi sunt qui solent dicere vox populi, vox dei; cum tumultus vulgi semper insaniæ proxima sit."

"Those closest, and so most accountable, to the people are best positioned to protect their rights."

"When the public narrative significantly diverges from lived experience, the only outcome is more frustration among the people, who realise that on top of being poorly served, they’re also being lied to and manipulated."

"The public revealed its single most predictable trait: fickleness."

"It is too rarely recognized that the concept of "public" is absolutely irreducible to the "state." The term "publicum" designates not merely the state administration, but the entire community as constituted by all citizens."

"The way is not made easy for those who would defend the public interest."

"He had scarcely gone a short league, when Fortune, that was conducting his affairs from good to better, discovered to him the road, where he also espied an Inn. Sancho positively maintained it was an Inn, and his master that it was a castle; and the dispute lasted so long that they arrived there before it was determined."

"What care if the day Be turned to gray, What care if the night come soon! We may choose the pace Who bow for grace, At the Inn of the Silver Moon."

"Whoe'er has travel'd life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome, at an inn."