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It is time for thee to be gone, lest the age more decent in its wantonness should laugh at thee and drive thee of the stage. [Lat., Tempus abire tibi est, ne . . . Rideat et pulset lasciva decentius aetas.]
Horace
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Horace
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Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
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More quotes by Horace
Now is the time for drinking now the time to beat the earth with unfettered foot.
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Pale death approaches with equal step, and knocks indiscriminately at the door of teh cottage, and the portals of the palace.
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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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False praise can please, and calumny affright None but the vicious, and the hypocrite.
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Who then is free? The wise who can command his passions, who fears not want, nor death, nor chains, firmly resisting his appetites and despising the honors of the world, who relies wholly on himself, whose angular points of character have all been rounded off and polished.
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I would advise him who wishes to imitate well, to look closely into life and manners, and thereby to learn to express them with truth.
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You have played enough you have eaten and drunk enough. Now it is time for you to depart.
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The cautious wolf fears the pit, the hawk regards with suspicion the snare laid for her, and the fish the hook in its concealment.
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As a neighboring funeral terrifies sick misers, and fear obliges them to have some regard for themselves so, the disgrace of others will often deter tender minds from vice.
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In trying to be concise I become obscure.
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Who knows if the gods above will add tomorrow's span to this day's sum?
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Death is the ultimate boundary of human matters.
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Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy my remaining days, if Heaven grant any to remain.
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Not to create confusion in what is clear, but to throw light on what is obscure.
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A word once let out of the cage cannot be whistled back again.
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There is measure in all things.
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No one is born without vices, and he is the best man who is encumbered with the least.
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We get blows and return them.
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While we're talking, envious time is fleeing: pluck the day, put no trust in the future
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The man is either mad or his is making verses. [Lat., Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit.]
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