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A burthen cheerfully borne becomes light
Ovid
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Ovid
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Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Burthen
Cheerfully
Borne
Becomes
Light
More quotes by Ovid
Destroy our leisure and you break love's bow.
Ovid
The rest of the crowd were friends of my fortune, not of me. [Lat., Caetera fortunae, non mea, turba fuit.]
Ovid
If the art is concealed, it succeeds.
Ovid
Skill makes love unending.
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Art lies by its own artifice.
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The man who falls in love chill find plenty of occupation.
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I could not possibly count the gold-digging ruses of women, Not if I had ten mouths, not if I had ten tongues.
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With wavering steps does fickle fortune stray, Nowhere she finds a firm and fixed abode But now all smiles, and now again all frowns, She's constant only in inconstancy.
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The love of glory gives an immense stimulus.
Ovid
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.
Ovid
Envy, slothful vice, Never makes its way in lofty characters, But, like the skulking viper, creeps and crawls Close to the ground.
Ovid
Safety lies in the middle course. [Lat., Medio tutissimus ibis.]
Ovid
You will be melancholy, if you are solitary.
Ovid
This letter gives me a tongue and were I not allowed to write, I should be dumb. [Lat., Praebet mihi littera linguam: Et, si non liceat scribere, mutus ero.]
Ovid
That fair face will as years roll on lose its beauty, and old age will bring its wrinkles to the brow.
Ovid
Forbear to lay the guilt of a few on the many.
Ovid
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.]
Ovid
If you would marry suitably, marry your equal.
Ovid
When all the other animals, downcast looked upon the earth, he [Prometheus] gave a face raised on high to man, and commanded him to see the sky and raise his high eyes to the stars.
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Time was when genius was more precious than gold, but now to have nothing is monstrous barbarism.
Ovid