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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.

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Horse
Dove
Produce
Savage
Born
Eagles
Found
Savages
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Horses
Excellence
Sire
Peaceful
Steers
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Ancestry

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In my youth I thought of writing a satire on mankind! but now in my age I think I should write an apology for them.
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I will perform the function of a whetstone, which is about to restore sharpness to iron, though itself unable to cut. [Lat., Fungar vice cotis, acutum Reddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsi secandi.]
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Drive Nature forth by force, she'll turn and rout The false refinements that would keep her out.
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The trainer trains the docile horse to turn, with his sensitive neck, whichever way the rider indicates.
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The dispute is still before the judge.
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The things, that are repeated again and again, are pleasant.
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However rich or elevated, a name less something is always wanting to our imperfect fortune.
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The lofty pine is oftenest shaken by the winds High towers fall with a heavier crash And the lightning strikes the highest mountain.
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Superfluous words simply spill out when the mind is already full.
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The gods my protectors. [Lat., Di me tuentur.]
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An envious man grows lean at another's fatness.
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Who then is free? The wise man who can govern himself.
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If you drive nature out with a pitchfork, she will soon find a way back.
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Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own: he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today. Be fair or foul or rain or shine, the joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, but what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
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Aiming at brevity, I become obscure.
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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.
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Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers, free from all anxieties of gain.
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Now drown care in wine. [Lat., Nunc vino pellite curas.]
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