Boy, I loathe Persian luxury.
He paints a dolphin in the woods, a boar in the waves.
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 poets aim is either to profit or to please, or to blend in one the delightful and the useful. Whatever the lesson you would convey, be brief, that your hearers may catch quickly what is said and faithfully retain it. Every superfluous word is spilled from the too-full memory.
Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.
A bad reader soon puts to flight both wise men and fools.
Carpe diem, quam minime credula postero. Enjoy the present day, trusting very little to the morrow.
By the favour of the heavens
Every old poem is sacred.
These trifles will lead to serious mischief. [Lat., Hae nugae seria ducent In mala.]
Anger is short-lived madness.
I shall not altogether die.
As shines the moon amid the lesser fires.
In a moment comes either death or joyful victory. [Lat., Horae Momento cita mors venit aut victoria laeta.]
Good sense is both the first principal and the parent source of good writing.
I would advise him who wishes to imitate well, to look closely into life and manners, and thereby to learn to express them with truth.
Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, Multa recedentes adimiunt. (The years, as they come, bring many agreeable things with them; as they go, they take many away.)
Better one thorn pluck'd out than all remain.
The power of daring anything their fancy suggest, as always been conceded to the painter and the poet.
Victory is by nature superb and insulting.
It is not enough that poetry is agreeable, it should also be interesting.
And I endeavour to subdue circumstances to myself, and not myself to circumstances. [Lat., Et mihi res, non me rebus, subjungere conor.]
In neglected fields the fern grows, which must be cleared out by fire.
Get what start the sinner may, Retribution, for all her lame leg, never quits his track.
The ox longs for the gaudy trappings of the horse; the lazy pack-horse would fain plough. [We envy the position of others, dissatisfied with our own.]
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