A Quote by Tacitus

Flattery labors under the odious charge of servility. — © Tacitus
Flattery labors under the odious charge of servility.

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Sheer flattery got me into the theater. Flattery always works with me, particularly the flattery of women.
There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart - It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge, For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
The power of the Executive to cast a man into prison without formulating any charge known to the law and particularly to deny him the judgement of his peers is in the highest degree odious and is the foundation of all totalitarian government whether Nazi or Communist.
As for a limit to one’s labors, I, for one, do not recognize any for a high-minded man, except that the labors themselves should lead to noble accomplishments.
Baloney is flattery laid on so thick it cannot be true, and blarney is flattery so thin we love it.
flattery would be worse than vain; there is no consolation in flattery.
Complimenting someone in an exaggerated way is known as flattery, and flattery will generally get you anything you want.
First, I charge a retainer; then I charge a reminder; next I charge a refresher; and then I charge a finisher.
If solitude deprives of the benefit of advice, it also excludes from the mischief of flattery. But the absence of others' applause is generally supplied by the flattery of one's own breast.
We must define flattery and praise; they are distinct. Trajan was encouraged to virtue by the panegyric Pliny; Tiberius became obstinate in vice from the flattery of his senators.
...it is up to us to add labors to labors in order to go from strength to strength (Ps. 83:7), and to come to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ (Eph. 4:13)?
The oppression of a majority is detestable and odious; the oppression of a minority is only by one degree less detestable and odious.
We are told that this is an odious and unpopular tax. I never knew a tax that was not odious and unpopular with the people who paid it.
I look at him. "It's odious," he says. "Detention?" I ask, confused. "Huh?" We have no idea what the other is talking about. "What's odious?" I ask. "O.D.S," he says, pointing to his discman and obviously referring to some dropkick band. Like I really care.
The flattery of posterity is not worth much more than contemporary flattery, which is worth nothing.
The world is a king, and like a king, desires flattery in return for favor; but true art is selfish and perverse — it will not submit to the mold of flattery.
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