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The drunkard is convicted by his praises of wine.

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Drunkard
Convicted
Drunkards
Praises
Praise
Wine

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In the midst of hopes and cares, of apprehensions and of disquietude, regard every day that dawns upon you as if it was to be your last then super-added hours, to the enjoyment of which you had not looked forward, will prove an acceptable boon.
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He tosses aside his paint-pots and his words a foot and a half long.
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The more we deny ourselves, the more the gods supply our wants. [Lat., Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit, A dis plura feret.]
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A shoe that is too large is apt to trip one, and when too small, to pinch the feet. So it is with those whose fortune does not suit them.
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In the same [hospitable] manner that a Calabrian would press you to eat his pears.
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Even-handed fate Hath but one law for small and great: That ample urn holds all men's names.
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Who knows if the gods above will add tomorrow's span to this day's sum?
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When a man is just and firm in his purpose, The citizens burning to approve a wrong Or the frowning looks of a tyrant Do not shake his fixed mind, nor the Southwind. Wild lord of the uneasy Adriatic, Nor the thunder in the mighty hand of Jove: Should the heavens crack and tumble down, As the ruins crushed him he would not fear.
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Wherever the storm carries me, I go a willing guest.
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A good and faithful judge ever prefers the honorable to the expedient.
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In trying to be concise I become obscure.
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And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop To the low mimic follies of a farce, As a grave matron would to dance with girls.
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All men do not admire and delight in the same objects.
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There are faults we would fain pardon.
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A picture is a poem without words
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Aiming at brevity, I become obscure.
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