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Concealed sorrow bursts the heart, and rages within us as an internal fire.
Ovid
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Ovid
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Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Heart
Bursts
Concealed
Internals
Internal
Rage
Sorrow
Fire
Within
Rages
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Pursuits become habits.
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In your judgment virtue requires no reward, and is to be sought for itself, unaccompanied by external benefits. [Lat., Judice te mercede caret, per seque petenda est Externis virtus incomitata bonis.]
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Poetry comes fine-spun from a mind at peace.
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Sleep, rest of things, O pleasing Deity, Peace of the soul, which cares dost crucify, Weary bodies refresh and mollify.
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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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The gods see the deeds of the righteous. [Lat., Di pia facta vident.]
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