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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.]

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Angry
Playful
Expression
Sorrowful
Serious
Suit
Words
Grave
Light
Graves
Become
Suits
Decent
Passionate

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What does it avail you, if of many thorns only one be removed.
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Your property is in danger when your neighbour's house is on fire.
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Poverty urges us to do and suffer anything that we may escape from it, and so leads us away from virtue.
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A good and faithful judge ever prefers the honorable to the expedient.
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The just man having a firm grasp of his intentions, neither the heated passions of his fellow men ordaining something awful, nor a tyrant staring him in the face, will shake in his convictions.
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Decus et pretium recte petit experiens vir. The man who makes the attempt justly aims at honour and reward.
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Joys do not fall to the rich alone nor has he lived ill of whose birth and death no one took note.
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He possesses dominion over himself, and is happy, who can every day say, I have lived. Tomorrow the heavenly father may either involve the world in dark clouds, or cheer it with clear sunshine, he will not, however, render ineffectual the things which have already taken place.
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Books have their destinies.
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I will perform the function of a whetstone, which is about to restore sharpness to iron, though itself unable to cut. [Lat., Fungar vice cotis, acutum Reddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsi secandi.]
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Nor let a god come in, unless the difficulty be worthy of such an intervention. [Lat., Nec deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus.]
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The man is either mad or his is making verses. [Lat., Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit.]
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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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Nor does Apollo keep his bow continually drawn. [Lat., Neque semper arcum Tendit Apollo.]
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Glory drags all men along, low as well as high, bound captive at the wheels of her glittering car.
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That destructive siren, sloth, is ever to be avoided.
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In trying to be concise I become obscure.
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Force without reason falls of its own weight.
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Painters and poets, you say, have always had an equal license in bold invention. We know we claim the liberty for ourselves and in turn we give it to others.
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Seek not to inquire what the morrow will bring with it.
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