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I shall speak facts but some will say I deal in fiction.

Ovid

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Ovid
Author
Elegist
Mythographer
Poet
Writer
Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Deal
Deals
Fiction
Shall
Speak
Facts

More quotes by Ovid

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Little things please little minds.
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As the mind of each man is conscious of good or evil, so does he conceive within his breast hope or fear, according to his actions.
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Ah me! love can not be cured by herbs.
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Time is the devourer of all things.
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I would that you were either less beautiful, or less corrupt. Such perfect beauty does not suit such imperfect morals. [Lat., Aut formosa fores minus, aut minus improba vellem. Non facit ad mores tam bona forma malos.]
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Fair peace becomes men ferocious anger belongs to beasts. [Lat., Candida pax homines, trux decet ira feras.]
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To dismiss a guest is a more ungracious act than not to admit him at all.
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When you have set yourself a task finish it.
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I have never injured anybody with a mordant poem my verse contains charges against nobody. Ingenuous, I have shunned wit steeped in venom--not a letter of mine is dipped in poisonous jest.
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The most wretched fortune is safe for there is no fear of anything worse. [Lat., Fortuna miserrima tuta est: Nam timor eventus deterioris abest.]
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In your judgment virtue requires no reward, and is to be sought for itself, unaccompanied by external benefits. [Lat., Judice te mercede caret, per seque petenda est Externis virtus incomitata bonis.]
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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.
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Safety lies in the middle course. [Lat., Medio tutissimus ibis.]
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You can learn from anyone even your enemy.
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The need has gone the memorial thereof remains.
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A pleasing countenance is no light advantage.
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The deeds of men never escape the gods. [Lat., Acta deos nunquam mortalia fallunt.]
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All human things hang on a slender thread, the strongest fall with a sudden crash.
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Thou seest how sloth wastes the sluggish body, as water is corrupted unless it moves.
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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