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Wherever the storm carries me, I go a willing guest.

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Carries
Carrie
Guests
Wherever
Storm
Willing
Guest

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My age, my inclinations, are no longer what they were.
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Happy and thrice happy are those who enjoy an uninterrupted union, and whose love, unbroken by any sour complaints, shall not dissolve until the last day of their existence.
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Do you count your birthdays with gratitude?
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These trifles will lead to serious mischief. [Lat., Hae nugae seria ducent In mala.]
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Splendidly mendacious. [Lat., Splendide mendax.]
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Drive Nature from your door with a pitchfork, and she will return again and again.
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Get what start the sinner may, Retribution, for all her lame leg, never quits his track.
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Enjoy thankfully any happy hour heaven may send you, nor think that your delights will keep till another year.
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The more we deny ourselves, the more the gods supply our wants. [Lat., Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit, A dis plura feret.]
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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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Poverty urges us to do and suffer anything that we may escape from it, and so leads us away from virtue.
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Anger is a momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you.
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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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The bowl dispels corroding cares.
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It is the false shame of fools to try to conceal wounds that have not healed.
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Leuconoe, close the book of fate, For troubles are in store, . . . . Live today, tomorrow is not.
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Only a stomach that rarely feels hungry scorns common things.
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Virtue, dear friend, needs no defense, The surest guard is innocence: None knew, till guilt created fear, What darts or poisoned arrows were
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In trying to be concise I become obscure.
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