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Everything, virtue, glory, honor, things human and divine, all are slaves to riches.

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Honor
Divine
Virtue
Human
Everything
Slaves
Humans
Riches
Things
Slave
Glory

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Clogged with yesterday's excess, the body drags the mind down with it.
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Choose a subject equal to your abilities think carefully what your shoulders may refuse, and what they are capable of bearing.
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I have raised for myself a monument more durable than brass.
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He's arm'd without that's innocent within Be this thy Screen, and this thy Wall of Brass.
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High descent and meritorious deeds, unless united to wealth, are as useless as seaweed.
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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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Adversity is wont to reveal genius, prosperity to hide it.
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Be this our wall of brass, to be conscious of having done no evil, and to grow pale at no accusation.
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When discord dreadful bursts the brazen bars, And shatters iron locks to thunder forth her wars.
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