Quote

Catch the opportunity while it lasts, and rely not on what the morrow may bring.

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Bring
Lasts
Opportunity
May
Morrow
Catch
Rely

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Little folks become their little fate.
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Man is never watchful enough against dangers that threaten him every hour. [Lat., Quid quisque vitet nunquam homini satis Cautum est in horas.]
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A portion of mankind take pride in their vices and pursue their purpose many more waver between doing what is right and complying with what is wrong.
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The mob may hiss me, but I congratulate myself while I contemplate my treasures in their hoard.
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Shun the inquisitive person, for he is also a talker. [Lat., Percunctatorem fugito, nam garrulus idem est.]
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The hour of happiness which comes unexpectedly is the happiest.
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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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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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Be not ashamed to have had wild days, but not to have sown your wild oats.
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Sorrowful words become the sorrowful angry words suit the passionate light words a playful expression serious words suit the grave. [Lat., Tristia maestum Vultum verba decent iratum, plena minarum Ludentem, lasciva: severum, seria dictu.]
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Take too much pleasure in good things, you'll feel The shock of adverse fortune makes you reel.
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Be this thy brazen bulwark, to keep a clear conscience, and never turn pale with guilt.
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One wanders to the left, another to the right. Both are equally in error, but, are seduced by different delusions.
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Why harass with eternal purposes a mind to weak to grasp them?
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Humble things become the humble.
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He who postpones the hour of living as he ought, is like the rustic who waits for the river to pass along (before he crosses) but it glides on and will glide forever. [Lat., Vivendi recte qui prorogat horam Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis at ille Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum.]
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In the word of no master am I bound to believe.
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Not to create confusion in what is clear, but to throw light on what is obscure.
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When discord dreadful bursts the brazen bars, And shatters iron locks to thunder forth her wars.
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