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We hate virtue when it is safe when removed from our sight we diligently seek it. [Lat., Virtutem incolumem odimus, Sublatum ex oculis quaerimus.]
Horace
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Horace
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Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
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Virtue
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He has not lived badly whose birth and death has been unnoticed by the world.
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By heaven you have destroyed me, my friends!
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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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