I praise her (Fortune) while she lasts; if she shakes her quick wings, I resign what she has given, and take refuge in my own virtue, and seek honest undowered Poverty.
Get what start the sinner may, Retribution, for all her lame leg, never quits his track.
Who knows whether the gods will add tomorrow to the present hour?
There is nothing hard inside the olive; nothing hard outside the nut.
Mediocrity is not allowed to poets, either by the gods or men.
What does drunkenness not accomplish? It unlocks secrets, confirms our hopes, urges the indolent into battle, lifts the burden from anxious minds, teaches new arts.