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Little folks become their little fate.

Horace

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Horace
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Q. Horatius Flaccus
Horatius
Horatius Flaccus
Folks
Fate
Become
Littles
Little

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You have played enough you have eaten and drunk enough. Now it is time for you to depart.
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Wherein is the use of getting rid of one thorn out of many?
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I have lived: tomorrow the Father may fill the sky with black clouds or with cloudless sunshine.
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Fate with impartial hand turns out the doom of high and low her capacious urn is constantly shaking the names of all mankind.
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Leuconoe, close the book of fate, For troubles are in store, . . . . Live today, tomorrow is not.
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Not to be lost in idle admiration is the only sure means of making and preserving happiness.
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The muse does not allow the praise-de-serving here to die: she enthrones him in the heavens.
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In truth it is best to learn wisdom, and abandoning all nonsense, to leave it to boys to enjoy their season of play and mirth.
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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 cask will long retain the flavour of the wine with which it was first seasoned.
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Anger is momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you.
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They change their skies, but not their souls who run across the sea.
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He tosses aside his paint-pots and his words a foot and a half long.
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Let your character be kept up the very end, just as it began, and so be consistent.
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Joking apart, now let us be serious.
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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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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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Humble things become the humble.
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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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Take subject matter equal to your powers, and ponder long, what your shoulders cannot bear, and what they can.
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