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He who sings the praises of his boyhood's days.

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Boyhood
Praises
Sings
Praise
Days

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How great, my friends, is the virtue of living upon a little!
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Fools through false shame, conceal their open wounds.
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Alas, Postumus, the fleeting years slip by, nor will piety give any stay to wrinkles and pressing old age and untamable death.
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Carpe diem. (Seize the day.)
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Every man should measure himself by his own standard. [Lat., Metiri se quemque suo modulo ac pede verum est.]
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While we're talking, time will have meanly run on... pick today's fruits, not relying on the future in the slightest.
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No man is born without faults.
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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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As many men as there are existing, so many are their different pursuits.
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A well-prepared mind hopes in adversity and fears in prosperity. [Lat., Sperat infestis, metuit secundis Alteram sortem, bene preparatum Pectus.]
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The glory is for those who deserve.
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Abridge your hopes in proportion to the shortness of the span of human life for while we converse, the hours, as if envious of our pleasure, fly away: enjoy, therefore, the present time, and trust not too much to what to-morrow may produce.
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Too indolent to bear the toil of writing I mean of writing well I say nothing about quantity. [Lat., Piger scribendi ferre laborem Scribendi recte, nam ut multum nil moror.]
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Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.
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I have reared a memorial more enduring than brass, and loftier than the regal structure of the pyramids, which neither the corroding shower nor the powerless north wind can destroy no, not even unending years nor the flight of time itself. I shall not entirely die. The greater part of me shall escape oblivion.
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Everything, virtue, glory, honor, things human and divine, all are slaves to riches.
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