Quote

Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, Multa recedentes adimiunt. (The years, as they come, bring many agreeable things with them as they go, they take many away.)

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Take
Many
Years
Things
Agreeable
Men
Bring
Time
Ability
Away
Come

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Of what use is a fortune to me, if I cannot use it? [Lat., Quo mihi fortunam, si non conceditur uti?]
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Not to create confusion in what is clear, but to throw light on what is obscure.
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A good resolve will make any port.
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Sad people dislike the happy, and the happy the sad the quick thinking the sedate, and the careless the busy and industrious.
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As riches grow, care follows, and a thirst For more and more.
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Let us seize, friends, our opportunity from the day as it passes.
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Think to yourself that every day is your last the hour to which you do not look forward will come as a welcome surprise.
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It is hard! But what can not be removed, becomes lighter through patience.
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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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Despise not sweet inviting love-making nor the merry dance.
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The foolish are like ripples on water, For whatsoever they do is quickly effaced But the righteous are like carvings upon stone, For their smallest act is durable.
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Great effort is required to arrest decay and restore vigor. One must exercise proper deliberation, plan carefully before making a move, and be alert in guarding against relapse following a renaissance.
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There is nothing assured to mortals.
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Plant no other tree before the vine.
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Having no business of his own to attend to, he busies himself with the affairs of others.
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To pile Pelion upon Olympus. [Lat., Pelion imposuisse Olympo.]
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What it is forbidden to be put right becomes lighter by acceptance.
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What wonders does not wine! It discloses secrets ratifies and confirms our hopes thrusts the coward forth to battle eases the anxious mind of its burden instructs in arts. Whom has not a cheerful glass made eloquent! Whom not quite free and easy from pinching poverty!
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Poets wish to profit or to please.
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People hiss at me, but I applaud myself in my own house, and at the same time contemplate the money in my chest.
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