From the egg to the apple.
Small things become small folks.
A greater liar than the Parthians.
To drink away sorrow.
A comic matter cannot be expressed in tragic verse. [Lat., Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult.]
Verses devoid of substance, melodious trifles. [Lat., Versus inopes rerum, nugaeque canorae.]
A noble pair of brothers. [Lat., Par nobile fratum.]
A pauper in the midst of wealth.
It is difficult to speak of the universal specifically.
Leuconoe, close the book of fate, For troubles are in store, . . . . Live today, tomorrow is not.
The Cadiz tribe, not used to bearing our yoke.
One Sallow does not make Summer.
Happy he who far from business persuits Tills and re-tills his ancestral lands With oxen of his own breeding Having no slavish yoke about his neck.
Content with his past life, let him take leave of life like a satiated guest.
I have lived: tomorrow the Father may fill the sky with black clouds or with cloudless sunshine.
Despise not sweet inviting love-making nor the merry dance.
Virtue, dear friend, needs no defense, The surest guard is innocence: None knew, till guilt created fear, What darts or poisoned arrows were
Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt. (They change their sky, not their soul, who rush across the sea.)
Misfortunes, untoward events, lay open, disclose the skill of a general, while success conceals his weakness, his weak points.
No verse can give pleasure for long, nor last, that is written by drinkers of water.
He who is upright in his way of life and free from sin.
How slight and insignificant is the thing which casts down or restores a mind greedy for praise.
Fortune, delighting in her cruel task, and playing her wanton game untiringly, is ever shifting her uncertain favours.
Even play has ended in fierce strife and anger.
Betray not a secret even though racked by wine or wrath.
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