There is such a thing as the poetry of a mistake, and when you say, "Mistakes were made," you deprive an action of its poetry, and you sound like a weasel.

...passive voice is better than writing out a humongous number and taking the risk that your readers' brains will be numb by the time they get to the verb.

But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture, Tell them that Gods bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, And seems a saint, when most I play the devil.

Villain and he be many miles asunder.

The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool. All's obliquy; There's nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy.

O villainy! Ho! let the door be lock'd. Treachery! seek it out.