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Every one who repeats it adds something to the scandal. [The rolling snow-ball.]
Ovid
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Ovid
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Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
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There is a god within us, and the heavens Have intercourse with earth from realms above That spirit comes.
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Knowest thou not that kings have long hands? [Lat., An nescis longos regibus esse manus?]
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What is now an act of reason, was but blind impulse.
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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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To be silent is but a small virtue but it is a serious fault to reveal secrets.
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All things human hang by a slender thread and that which seemed to stand strong suddenly falls and sinks in ruins.
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Winged time glides on insensibly, and deceive us and there is nothing more fleeting than years.
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Either do not attempt at all or go through with it.
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That pleasure which can be safely indulged in is the least inviting.
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The mind conscious of innocence despises false reports: but we are a set always ready to believe a scandal.
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Thou seest how sloth wastes the sluggish body, as water is corrupted unless it moves.
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If you want to be loved, be lovable.
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A mind conscious of right laughs at the falsehoods of rumour. [Lat., Conscia mens recti famae mendacia risit.]
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Writings survive the years it is by writings that you know Agamemnon, and those who fought for or against him. [Lat., Scripta ferunt annos scriptis Agamemnona nosti, Et quisquis contra vel simul arma tulit.]
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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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Love is born of idleness and, once born, by idleness is fostered.
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Truly now is the golden age the highest honour comes by means of gold by gold love is procured.
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If the art is concealed, it succeeds.
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Overlook our deeds, since you know that crime was absent from our inclination. [Lat., Factis ignoscite nostris Si scelus ingenio scitis abesse meo.]
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The man who falls in love chill find plenty of occupation.
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