Why do you hasten to remove anything which hurts your eye, while if something affects your soul you postpone the cure until next year?
HoraceLet your mind, happily contented with the present, care not what the morrow will bring with it.
HoraceCome boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight! Catullus, Selections From Catullus No poems can live long or please that are written by water-drinkers.
Horace