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Tempus edax rerum. Time the devourer of everything.

Ovid

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Ovid
Author
Elegist
Mythographer
Poet
Writer
Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Time
Devourer
Tempus
Everything

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So long as you are secure you will count many friends if your life becomes clouded you will be alone.
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I am dragged along by a strange new force. Desire and reason are pulling in different directions. I see the right way and approve it, but follow the wrong.
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Consider the misfortunes of others, and you will be the better able to bear your own.
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The sick mind can not bear anything harsh. [Lat., Mensque pati durum sustinet aegra nihil.]
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All things change, nothing is extinguished. There is nothing in the whole world which is permanent. Everything flows onward all things are brought into being with a changing nature the ages themselves glide by in constant movement.
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Those things that nature denied to human sight, she revealed to the eyes of the soul.
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I attempt an arduous task but there is no worth in that which is not a difficult achievement
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First try all other means, but if the wound Heal not, then use the knife, lest to the clean From the diseased the canker spread.
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By constant dripping, water hollows stone, A signet-ring from use alone grows thin, And the curved plowshare by soft earth is worn.
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Either attempt it not, or succeed.
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Anything cracked will shatter at a touch.
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Thou fool, what is sleep but the image of death? Fate will give an eternal rest. [Lat., Stulte, quid est somnus, gelidae nisi mortis imago? Longa quiescendi tempora fata dabunt.]
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Calumny ever pursues the great, even as the winds hurl themselves on high places.
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When a rose dies, a thorn is left behind.
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It is ill to marry in the month of May.
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By arts, sails, and oars, ships are rapidly moved arts move the light chariot, and establish love. [Lat., Arte citae veloque rates remoque moventur Arte levis currus, arte regendus Amor.]
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Anyone can be rich in promises.
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Our native soil draws all of us, by I know not what sweetness, and never allows us to forget.
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The raven once in snowy plumes was drest, White as the whitest dove's unsullied breast, Fair as the guardian of the Capitol, Soft as the swan a large and lovely fowl His tongue, his prating tongue had changed him quite To sooty blackness from the purest white.
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Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses.
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