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The mind that's conscious of its rectitude, Laughs at the lies of rumor.
Ovid
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Ovid
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Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Laughs
Integrity
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Laughing
Lying
Mind
Rectitude
Rumor
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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 is a God within us, and we glow when He stirs us.
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By arts, sails, and oars, ships are rapidly moved arts move the light chariot, and establish love. [Lat., Arte citae veloque rates remoque moventur Arte levis currus, arte regendus Amor.]
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