The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.
HORACEThe years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.
HORACEThe gods have given you wealth and the means of enjoying it.
HORACESeest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with I yesterday’s excess, weighs down the soul, and fixes to the earth this particle of the divine essence.
HORACEIt is your concern when your neighbor’s wall is on fire.
HORACESeize the day, put no trust in the morrow!
HORACEWho prates of war or want after his wine? [Lat., Quis post vina gravem militiam aut pauperiem crepat?]
HORACEThe arrow will not always find the mark intended.
HORACEWhen evil times prevail, take care to preserve the serenity of your hear.
HORACEWhat it is forbidden to be put right becomes lighter by acceptance.
HORACEWho’s started has half finished.
HORACEOne cannot know everything.
HORACEOf writing well the source and fountainhead is wise thinking.
HORACEPale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings. [Lat., Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regumque turres.]
HORACENever without a shilling in my purse.
HORACENot to be lost in idle admiration is the only sure means of making and preserving happiness.
HORACEA word, once sent abroad, flies irrevocably.
HORACE