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Trust me no tortures which the poets feign Can match the fierce unutterable pain He feels, who night and day devoid of rest Carries his own accuser in his breast.

Juvenal

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Juvenal
Poet
Writer
Decimus Iunius Iuvenalis
Decimus Junius Juvenalis
Night
Breasts
Accusers
Feels
Poets
Tortures
Torture
Devoid
Conscience
Breast
Poet
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Trust
Carrie
Accuser
Rest
Fierce
Unutterable
Pain
Match
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Revenge is sweeter than life itself. So think fools.
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When a man's life is at stake no delay is too long. [Lat., Nulla unquam de morte cunctatio longa est.]
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An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts.
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Everything is Greek, when it is more shameful to be ignorant of Latin.
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Vice can deceive under the guise and shadow of virtue.
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Now that no one buys our votes, the public has long since cast off its cares for the people that once bestowed commands, consulships, legions, and all else, now meddles no more and longs eagerly for just two things - bread and circuses.
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Virtue is the only and true nobility. [Lat., Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus.]
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