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Curst is the wretch enslaved to such a vice, Who ventures life and soul upon the dice.
Horace
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Horace
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Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Gambling
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Curst
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Wretch
Soul
Ventures
Life
Enslaved
Dice
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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.]
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The more a man denies himself, the more he shall receive from heaven. Naked, I seek the camp of those who covet nothing. [Lat., Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit, A dis plura feret. Nil cupientium Nudus castra peto.]
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The poet must put on the passion he wants to represent.
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In the capacious urn of death, every name is shaken. [Lat., Omne capax movet urna nomen.]
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Fierce eagles breed not the tender dove.
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When you introduce a moral lesson, let it be brief.
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It is hard! But what can not be removed, becomes lighter through patience.
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Lighten grief with hopes of a brighter morrow Temper joy, in fear of a change of fortune.
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If things look badly to-day they may look better tomorrow.
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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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Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings. [Lat., Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regumque turres.]
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Sad people dislike the happy, and the happy the sad the quick thinking the sedate, and the careless the busy and industrious.
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Even the worthy Homer sometimes nods.
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Nature is harmony in discord.
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