Ovid Quotes About Lying

Quotes about: Lying

• Nowadays nothing but money counts: a fortune brings honors, friendships, the poor man everywhere lies low.

  Ovid

  Life, Success, Money

• Cunning leads to knavery. It is but a step from one to the other, and that very slippery. Only lying makes the difference; add that to cunning, and it is knavery.

  Ovid

  Lying, Differences, Knavery

• The mind that's conscious of its rectitude,
  Laughs at the lies of rumor.

  Ovid

  Integrity, Lying, Laughing

• Tis on the living Envy feeds. She silent grows
  When, after death, man's honor is his guard.
  So I, when on the pyre consumed I lie,
  Shall live, for all that's noblest will survive.

  Ovid

  Death, Lying, Men

• Wine, not too much, inspires and make the mind,to the soft joys of Venus strong inclined,which, buried in excess, unapt to love,stupidly lies and knows not hom to move

  Ovid

  Strong, Lying, Moving

• Ovid lies here, the poet, skilled in love's gentle sport;
  By his own talents he worked his undoing.
  Oh, you who pass by, if ever you have loved,
  Think it not a burden to wish him calm repose.

  Ovid

  Love, Sports, Lying

• The sea's vast depths lie open to the fish;
  Wherever the breezes blow the bird may fly;
  So to the brave man every land's a home.

  Ovid

  Lying, Home, Blow

• Art lies by its own artifice.

  Ovid

  Art, Lying, Deception

• When a house is tottering to its fall,
  The strain lies heaviest on the weakest part,
  One tiny crack throughout the structure spreads,
  And its own weight soon brings it toppling down.

  Ovid

  Lying, Fall, House

• Safety lies in the middle course.
  [Lat., Medio tutissimus ibis.]

  Ovid

  Lying, Safety, Moderation

• The art of medicine in the season lies:
  Wine given in season oft will benefit,
  Which out of season injures.

  Ovid

  Art, Lying, Healing

• Good-bye to the lies of the poets.
  [Lat., Valeant mendacia vatum.]

  Ovid

  Lying, Bye, Good Bye

• Art lies in concealing art.

  Ovid

  Art, Lying, Concealing

• The god we now behold with opened eyes,
  A herd of spotted panthers round him lies
  In glaring forms; the grapy clusters spread
  On his fair brows, and dangle on his head.

  Ovid

  Lying, Eye, Panthers

  Ovid, “Metamorphoses: Book The Third”

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