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Every one who repeats it adds something to the scandal. [The rolling snow-ball.]

Ovid

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Ovid
Author
Elegist
Mythographer
Poet
Writer
Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Rolling
Repeats
Add
Ball
Snow
Balls
Every
Adds
Something
Scandal

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May you live unenvied, and pass many pleasant years unknown to fame and also have congenial friends. [Lat., Vive sine invidia, mollesque inglorius annos Exige amicitias et tibi junge pares.]
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What is allowed us is disagreeable, what is denied us causes us intense desire.
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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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Let the poor man mind his tongue
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Tempus edax rerum. Time the devourer of everything.
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Those things that nature denied to human sight, she revealed to the eyes of the soul.
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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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Giving requires good sense. [Lat., Rest est ingeniosa dare.]
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Keep thy hook always baited, for a fish lurks even in the most unlikely swim.
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The battle is over when the foe has fallen.
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The man who has experienced shipwreck shudders even at a calm sea.
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Let those who have deserved their punishment, bear it patiently. [Lat., Aequo animo poenam, qui meruere, ferant.]
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It is lawful to be taught by an enemy. Fas est ab hoste doceri.
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Lovers remember everything. [Lat., Meminerunt omnia amantes.]
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Nowadays nothing but money counts: a fortune brings honors, friendships, the poor man everywhere lies low.
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The more they drink the more they thirst.
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There is no need of words believe facts. [Lat., Non opus est verbis, credite rebus.]
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You put aside the work that's done, and seek some work to do.
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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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The rest of the crowd were friends of my fortune, not of me. [Lat., Caetera fortunae, non mea, turba fuit.]
Ovid