The gods favor the bold.
I hate a woman who offers herself because she ought to do so, and cold and dry thinks of her sewing when making love.
Sleep, rest of nature, O sleep, most gentle of the divinities, peace of the soul, thou at whose presence care disappears, who soothest hearts wearied with daily employments, and makest them strong again for labour!
Things which of themselves avail nothing, when united become powerful.
Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop
Today is truly the Golden Age: gold buys hornor, gold procures love