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Years, following years, steal something every day At last they steal us from ourselves away.
Horace
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Horace
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Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Years
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Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!
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Enjoy the present day, trust the least possible to the future.
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A word, once sent abroad, flies irrevocably.
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The mob may hiss me, but I congratulate myself while I contemplate my treasures in their hoard.
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My cares and my inquiries are for decency and truth, and in this I am wholly occupied.
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Busy idleness urges us on.
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Money is a handmaiden, if thou knowest how to use it A mistress, if thou knowest not.
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Money is to be sought for first of all virtue after wealth. [Lat., Quaerenda pecunia primum est virtus post nummos.]
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It is hard! But what can not be removed, becomes lighter through patience.
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