“Fate would have no divinity if we were wise: it is we who make her a goddess and place her in heaven.”

If nature’s inspiration fails, indignation will beget the poem.

Pray for a healthy mind in a healthy body.

Luck often raises vulgarity to a high position, to create mirth for the beholders.

It is a poor thing to lean upon the fame of others, lest the pillars give way and the house fall down in ruin.

Give them bread and circuses and they will never revolt.

A woman is most merciless when shame goads on her hate.

All wish to be learned, but no one is willing to pay the price.

Rare is the union of beauty and purity.

It is sheer madness to live in want in order to be wealthy when you die.

A lucky man is rarer than a white crow.

Is it a simple form of madness to lose a hundred thousand sesterces, and not have a shirt to give to a shivering slave?

Where talent is lacking, anger writes poetry.

This precept descended from Heaven: know thyself.

Vice can deceive under the guise and shadow of virtue.

Every great house is full of haughty servants.

Many commit the same crime with a very different result. One bears a cross for his crime; another a crown.

He cannot complain of a hard sentence, who is made master of his own fate.

The dictates of the heart are the voice of fate.

If you try to cure evil with evil you will add more pain to your fate.

Maybe you’ll get lucky. I said bleakly, lurching on my feet. Maybe I’ll get hit by a truck on my way back.

The fate of animals is of greater importance to me than the fear of appearing ridiculous; it is indissolubly connected with the fate of men.

Forbearance in the face of fate, beauty constant under torture, are not merely passive. They are a positive achievement, an explicit triumph.

Bears, I muttered, adding a new fear to the pile. That would be just her luck, wouldn’t it? Stray bear in town. OF course it would head straight for Bella.

And we were fated to be right at the wrong time.