Through pain I've learned to comfort suffering men
That which an enraged woman can accomplish.
Consider what each soil will bear, and what each refuses
I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.
Don't trust the horse, Trojans. Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks even bearing gifts. -Equo ne credite, Teucri. Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes
It is easy to go down into Hell...; but to climb back again, to retrace one's steps to the upper air - -there's the rub.
If only Jupiter would restore me those bygone years.
What a lot of work it was to found the Roman race.
Who can blind lover's eyes?
In his deepest heart there surge tremendous shame and madness mixed with sorrow and love whipped on by frenzy and a courage aware of its own worth.
Thus shall you go to the stars.
Yield not to calamity, but face her boldly.
E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain, Oft have I seen the war of winds contend, And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend, Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn, The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne, As light straw and rapid stubble fly In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.
Is it then so sad a thing to die?
There's a snake hidden in the grass.
There should be no strife with the vanquished or the dead.
It is well to be informed about the winds, About the variations in the sky, The native traits and habits of the place, What each locale permits, and what denies.
A fickle and changeful thing is a woman ever.
If one swain scorns you, you will soon find another.
A fault is fostered by concealment.
Not being untutored in suffering, I learn to pity those in affliction
We have to thank God for this retirement.
Then endure for a while, and live for a happier day!
There's a snake lurking in the grass.
Passion and strife bow down the mind
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