At Rome I love Tibur; then, like a weathercock, at Tibur Rome.

Little folks become their little fate.

Let those who drink not, but austerely dine, dry up in law; the Muses smell of wine.

I court not the votes of the fickle mob.

Who has self-confidence will lead the rest.

Whatever you teach, be brief; what is quickly said, the mind readily receives and faithfully retains, everything superfluous runs over as from a full vessel.

You may suppress natural propensities by force, but they will be certain to re-appear.