O drink is mighty! secrets it unlocks, Turns hope to fact, sets cowards on to box, Takes burdens from the careworn, finds out parts In stupid folks, and teaches unknown arts. What tongue hangs fire when quickened by the bowl? What wretch so poor but wine expands his soul?
If virtue holds the secret, don't defer; Be off with pleasure, and be on with her.
Pale death approaches with equal step, and knocks indiscriminately at the door of teh cottage, and the portals of the palace.
What wonders does not wine! It discloses secrets; ratifies and confirms our hopes; thrusts the coward forth to battle; eases the anxious mind of its burden; instructs in arts. Whom has not a cheerful glass made eloquent! Whom not quite free and easy from pinching poverty!
The short span of life forbids us to spin out hope to any length. Soon will night be upon you, and the fabled Shades, and the shadowy Plutonian home.
Even-handed fate Hath but one law for small and great: That ample urn holds all men's names.
Seest 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.
I have reared a memorial more enduring than brass, and loftier than the regal structure of the pyramids, which neither the corroding shower nor the powerless north wind can destroy; no, not even unending years nor the flight of time itself. I shall not entirely die. The greater part of me shall escape oblivion.
A dowried wife, friends, beauty, birth, fair fame, These are the gifts of money, heavenly dame: Be but a moneyed man, persuasion tips Your tongue, and Venus settles on your lips.
Painters and poets alike have always had license to dare anything! We know that, and we both claim and allow to others in their turn this indulgence.
Those who seek for much are left in want of much. Happy is he to whom God has given, with sparing hand, as much as is enough.
The dispute is still before the judge.
The brave are born from the brave and good. In steers and in horses is to be found the excellence of their sire; nor do savage eagles produce a peaceful dove.
Not even for an hour can you bear to be alone, nor can you advantageously apply your leisure time, but you endeavor, a fugitive and wanderer, to escape from yourself, now vainly seeking to banish remorse by wine, and now by sleep; but the gloomy companion presses on you, and pursues you as you fly.
The consummate pleasure (in eating) is not in the costly flavour, but in yourself. Do you seek for sauce for sweating?
Fate with impartial hand turns out the doom of high and low; her capacious urn is constantly shaking the names of all mankind.
The cautious wolf fears the pit, the hawk regards with suspicion the snare laid for her, and the fish the hook in its concealment.
Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.
He paints a dolphin in the woods, a boar in the waves.
Think of the wonders uncorked by wine! It opens secrets, gives heart to our hopes, pushes the cowardly into battle, lifts the load from anxious minds, and evokes talents. Thanks to the bottle's prompting no one is lost for words, no one who's cramped by poverty fails to find release.
Sovereign money procures a wife with a large fortune, gets a man credit, creates friends, stands in place of pedigree, and even of beauty.
The trainer trains the docile horse to turn, with his sensitive neck, whichever way the rider indicates.
In trying to be concise I become obscure.
In the same [hospitable] manner that a Calabrian would press you to eat his pears.
Damnosa quid non imminuit dies? What does not destructive time destroy?
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