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Add little to little and there will be a big pile.

Ovid

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Ovid
Author
Elegist
Mythographer
Poet
Writer
Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Bigs
Action
Littles
Little
Pile
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More quotes by Ovid

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Wind feeds the fire, and wind extinguishes: The flames are nourished by a gentle breeze, Yet, if it stronger grows, they sink and die.
Ovid
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A thousand ills require a thousand cures.
Ovid
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Nothing is more powerful than custom or habit.
Ovid
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Let others praise ancient times I am glad I was born in these.
Ovid
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The mightiest rivers lose their force when split up into several streams.
Ovid
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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.]
Ovid
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A woman is a creature that's always shopping.
Ovid
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Do not believe hastily.
Ovid
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For this reason, if you believe proverbs, let me tell you the common one: It is unlucky to marry in May.
Ovid
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My hopes are not always realized, but I always hope. [Lat., Et res non semper, spes mihi semper adest.]
Ovid
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To feel our ills is one thing, but to cure them is another.
Ovid
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Fair peace becomes men ferocious anger belongs to beasts. [Lat., Candida pax homines, trux decet ira feras.]
Ovid
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That load becomes light which is cheerfully borne.
Ovid
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Only begin, and you will become eloquent of yourself.
Ovid
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Fortune and love favor the brave.
Ovid
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Overlook our deeds, since you know that crime was absent from our inclination. [Lat., Factis ignoscite nostris Si scelus ingenio scitis abesse meo.]
Ovid
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Time itself flows on with constant motion, just like a river: for no more than a river can the fleeting hour stand still. As wave is driven on by wave, and, itself pursued, pursues the one before, so the moments of time at once flee and follow, and are ever new.
Ovid
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We suffer by our proximity. [Who get a blow intended for another.]
Ovid
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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.]
Ovid
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Sleep, nature's rest, divine tranquility, That brings peace to the mind.
Ovid