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The gods have their own rules.

Ovid

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Ovid
Author
Elegist
Mythographer
Poet
Writer
Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Gods
Rules

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That fair face will as years roll on lose its beauty, and old age will bring its wrinkles to the brow.
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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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My intention is to tell of bodies changed into new forms.
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A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam, A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient too? So like to this, nay all the rest, Is each neat niplet of her breast.
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No thanks attach to a kindness long deferred.
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A light breath fans the flame, a violent gust extinguishes it.
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Some wounds grow worse beneath the surgeon's hand Better that they were not touched at all.
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Good hope is often beguiled by her own augury.
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All-devouring time, envious age, Nought can escape you, and by slow degrees, Worn by your teeth, all things will lingering die.
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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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Ah me! how easy it is (how much all have experienced it) to indulge in brave words in another person's trouble. [Lat., Hei mihi, quam facile est (quamvis hic contigit omnes), Alterius lucta fortia verba loqui!]
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The mightiest rivers lose their force when split up into several streams.
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If you want to be loved, be lovable.
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Everything changes, nothing is lost.
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The wit of man has devised cruel statutes, And nature oft permits what is by law forbid.
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A frail gift is beauty, which grows less as time draws on, and is devoured by its own years.
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The gods favor the bold.
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Great talents, by the rust of long disuse, Grow lethargic and shrink from what they were.
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All human things hang on a slender thread, the strongest fall with a sudden crash.
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O ye gods! what thick encircling darkness blinds the minds of men!
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