Grief is put to flight and assuaged by generous draughts.
Have consideration for wounded feelings.
Imperceptibly the hours glide on, and beguile us as they pass.
There is a certain kind of pleasure in weeping.
There is a good deal in a man's mode of eating.
Very slight violence will break that which has once been cracked.
Even pleasure cloys without variety.
In your judgment virtue requires no reward, and is to be sought for itself, unaccompanied by external benefits. [Lat., Judice te mercede caret, per seque petenda est Externis virtus incomitata bonis.]
In war the olive branch of peace is of use. [Lat., Adjuvat in bello pacatae ramus olivae.]
If the subject's easy we may all be wise; What stands unfirm, the smallest force overthrows.
Friendship is but a name, faith is an empty name. Alas, it is not safe to praise to a friend the object of your love; as soon as he believes your praises, he slips into your place.
Constant Penelope sends to thee, careless Ulysses. Write not again, but come, sweet mate
Tis on the living Envy feeds. She silent grows When, after death, man's honor is his guard. So I, when on the pyre consumed I lie, Shall live, for all that's noblest will survive.
Man's last day must ever be awaited and none to be counted happy until his death, until his last funeral rites are paid.
If you would conquer Love, he must be fought At his first onslaught; sprinkle but a drop Of water, the new-kindled flame expires.
There is no brotherhood between love and dignity, Nor can they share the same abode.
Ovid lies here, the poet, skilled in love's gentle sport; By his own talents he worked his undoing. Oh, you who pass by, if ever you have loved, Think it not a burden to wish him calm repose.
You put aside the work that's done, and seek some work to do.
The earth yields up her stores, of every ill The instigators; iron, foe to man, And gold, than iron deadlier.
She who resists as though she would not win, By her own treason falls an easy prey.
Envy, slothful vice, Never makes its way in lofty characters, But, like the skulking viper, creeps and crawls Close to the ground.
When a house is tottering to its fall, The strain lies heaviest on the weakest part, One tiny crack throughout the structure spreads, And its own weight soon brings it toppling down.
Art lies in concealing art.
For in this strange anatomy we wear, the head has greater powers than the hand; the spirit, heart, and mind are over all.
Believe me, the gods spare the afflicted, and do not always oppress those who are unfortunate.
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