Quote

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

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Ovid
Author
Elegist
Mythographer
Poet
Writer
Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Tongue
Letters
Gives
Write
Eros
Giving
Authorship
Writing
Letter
Dumb
Allowed

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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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The wounded gladiator forswears all fighting, but soon forgetting his former wound resumes his arms.
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Time is a stream which glides smoothly on and is past before we know.
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Love is a thing full of anxious fears.
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The workmanship was better than the subject matter.
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By constant dripping, water hollows stone, A signet-ring from use alone grows thin, And the curved plowshare by soft earth is worn.
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Sleep, rest of nature, O sleep, most gentle of the divinities, peace of the soul, thou at whose presence care disappears, who soothest hearts wearied with daily employments, and makest them strong again for labour!
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Leave war to others 'tis Protesilaus' part of love.
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The love of country is more powerful than reason itself.
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There are a thousand forms of evil there will be a thousand remedies.
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Well has he lived who has lived well in obscurity.
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Isn't the best defense always a good attack?
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That you may please others you must be forgetful of yourself.
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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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Thanks are justly due for things got without purchase. [Lat., Gratia pro rebus merito debetur inemtis.]
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Our neighbour's crop is always more fruitful and his cattle produce more milk than our own.
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Tis not always in a physician's power to cure the sick at times the disease is stronger than trained art.
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Venus is kind to creatures as young as weWe know not what we do, and while we're youngWe have the right to live and love like gods.
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Tis on the living Envy feeds. She silent grows When, after death, man's honor is his guard. So I, when on the pyre consumed I lie, Shall live, for all that's noblest will survive.
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Nothing is stronger than habit.
Ovid