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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
Rules
Gods

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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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The more they drink the more they thirst.
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The mind is sicker than the sick body in contemplation of its sufferings it becomes hopeless. [Lat., Corpore sed mens est aegro magis aegra malique In circumspectu stat sine fine sui.]
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There is no need of words believe facts. [Lat., Non opus est verbis, credite rebus.]
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According to the state of a man's conscience, so do hope and fear on account of his deeds arise in his mind.
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It's useful that there should be Gods, so let's believe there are.
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I attempt an arduous task but there is no worth in that which is not a difficult achievement
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You can learn from anyone even your enemy.
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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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There are a thousand forms of evil there will be a thousand remedies.
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My bark, once struck by the fury of the storm, dreads again to approach the place of danger.
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You will hardly conquer, but conquer you must. [Lat., Male vincetis, sed vincite.]
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Skilled in every trick, a worthy heir of his paternal craft, he would make black look like white, and white look black. [Lat., Furtum ingeniosus ad omne, Qui facere assueret, patriae non degener artis, Candida de nigris, et de candentibus atra.]
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Winged time glides on insensibly, and deceive us and there is nothing more fleeting than years.
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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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Sleep, thou repose of all things sleep, thou gentlest of the deities thou peace of the mind, from which care flies who doest soothe the hearts of men wearied with the toils of the day, and refittest them for labor.
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Ah me! love can not be cured by herbs. [Lat., Hei mihi! quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis.]
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What is without periods of rest will not endure.
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A soldier when aged is not appreciated the love of an old man sickens.
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What is now reason was formerly impulse or instinct.
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