They must be lurking bastards. He speaks to me as if I were a public meeting. I quite like to read about them in the pages of Plutarch, where they don't outrage my humanity. Let us see them carved in marble or cast in bronze, and hear no more about them. In real life they are nasty creatures, persecutors, temperamental, despotic, bitter and suspicious.
All men are frauds.
The only difference between them is that some admit it. I myself deny it. It is hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head. The voice of the intellect is a soft one, but it does not rest until it has gained a hearing. Ultimately, after endlessly repeated rebuffs, it succeeds.