The glory is for those who deserve.

One Sallow does not make Summer.

For example, the tiny ant, a creature of great industry, drags with its mouth whatever it can, and adds it to the heap which she is piling up, not unaware nor careless of the future.

Joys do not fall to the rich alone; nor has he lived ill of whose birth and death no one took note.

The explanation avails nothing, which in leading us from one difficulty involves us in another.

Not gods, nor men, nor even booksellers have put up with poets' being second-rate.

You must avoid sloth, that wicked siren.