Limbs of a dismembered poet.
I have reared a memorial more enduring than brass, and loftier than the regal structure of the pyramids, which neither the corroding shower nor the powerless north wind can destroy; no, not even unending years nor the flight of time itself. I shall not entirely die. The greater part of me shall escape oblivion.
Let the character as it began be preserved to the last; and let it be consistent with itself.
Luck cannot change birth.
Busy idleness urges us on. [Lat., Strenua nos exercet inertia.]
Death is the last limit of all things.
One night is awaiting us all, and the way of death must be trodden once. [Lat., Omnes una manet nox, Et calcanda semel via leti.]
Nothing is difficult to mortals; we strive to reach heaven itself in our folly. [Lat., Nil mortalibus arduum est; Coelum ipsum petimus stultitia.]
Sport begets tumultuous strife and wrath, and wrath begets fierce quarrels and war to the death.
It is a sweet and seemly thing to die for one's country.
A wise God shrouds the future in obscure darkness. [Lat., Prudens futuri temporis exitum Caliginosa nocte premit deus.]
Avoid inquisitive persons, for they are sure to be gossips, their ears are open to hear, but they will not keep what is entrusted to them.
Thou oughtest to know, since thou livest near the gods. [Lat., Scire, deos quoniam propius contingis, oportet.]
That corner of the world smiles for me more than anywhere else.
A man perfect to the finger tips.
You have played enough; you have eaten and drunk enough. Now it is time for you to depart.
Even the good Homer is sometimes caught napping.
Even play has ended in fierce strife and anger.
It is grievous to be caught.
The more a man denies himself, the more he shall receive from heaven. Naked, I seek the camp of those who covet nothing. [Lat., Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit, A dis plura feret. Nil cupientium Nudus castra peto.]
He paints a dolphin in the woods, a boar in the waves.
If a better system's thine, Impart it frankly, or make use of mine.
Betray not a secret even though racked by wine or wrath.
Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.
It makes a great difference whether Davus or a hero speaks.
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