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Nothing is more useful to man that those arts which have no utility.
Ovid
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Ovid
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Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Nothing
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Art
More quotes by Ovid
Envy assails the noblest: the winds howl around the highest peaks.
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As the yellow gold is tried in fire, so the faith of friendship must be seen in adversity.
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The sharp thorn often produces delicate roses.
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Those dreams are true which we have in the morning, as the lamp begins to flicker. [Lat., Namque sub Aurora jam dormitante lucerna Sommia quo cerni tempore vera solent.]
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Sleep, nature's rest, divine tranquility, That brings peace to the mind.
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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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It is the mind that makes the man, and our vigour is in our immortal soul.
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Eurydice, dying now a second time, uttered no complaint against her husband. What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?
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The rest of the crowd were friends of my fortune, not of me. [Lat., Caetera fortunae, non mea, turba fuit.]
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Alas! How difficult it is to prevent the countenance from betraying guilt!
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The dove, O hawk, that has once been wounded by thy talons, is frightened by the least movement of a wing. [Lat., Terretur minimo pennae stridore columba Unguibus, accipiter, saucia facta tuis.]
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We are all bound thither we are hastening to the same common goal. Black death calls all things under the sway of its laws. [Lat., Tendimus huc omnes metam properamus ad unam. Omnia sub leges mors vocat atra suas.]
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Imperceptibly the hours glide on, and beguile us as they pass.
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Calumny ever pursues the great, even as the winds hurl themselves on high places.
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Fortune and love favour the brave. [Lat., Audentem Forsque Venusque juvant.]
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Thus all things altered. Nothing dies. And here and there the unbodied spirit flies.
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Love is a kind of military service
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Love is a believing creature.
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Happy is the man who has broken the chains which hurt the mind, and has given up worrying once and for all.
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Tempus edax rerum. Time that devours all things.
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