Quotes by Horace - Page 19

I, too, am indignant when the worthy Homer nods; yet in a long work it is allowable for sleep to creep over the writer. [Lat., Et idem Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus; Verum opere longo fas est obrepere somnum.]
Horace / Poet
Bonus
Long
Sleep
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It is no great art to say something briefly when, like Tacitus, one has something to say; when one has nothing to say, however, and none the less writes a whole book and makes truth into a liar - that I call an achievement.
Horace / Poet
Art
Achievement
Book
Great Art
Liars
Lying
Less
Call
However
None
Writes
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If anything affects your eye, you hasten to have it removed; if anything affects your mind, you postpone the cure for a year. [Lat., Quae laedunt oculum festinas demere; si quid Est animum, differs curandi tempus in annum.]
Horace / Poet
Eye
Mind
Years
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Who then is free? The one who wisely is lord of themselves, who neither poverty, death or captivity terrify, who is strong to resist his appetites and shun honors, and is complete in themselves smooth and round like a globe
Horace / Poet
4th Of July
Freedom
Strong
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You will not rightly call him a happy man who possesses much; he more rightly earns the name of happy who is skilled in wisely using the gifts of the gods, and in suffering hard poverty, and who fears disgrace as worse than death.
Horace / Poet
Happiness
Men
Names
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The common people are but ill judges of a man's merits; they are slaves to fame, and their eyes are dazzled with the pomp of titles and large retinue. No wonder, then, that they bestow their honors on those who least deserve them.
Horace / Poet
Men
Eye
People
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Seest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with I yesterday's excess, weighs down the soul, and fixes to the earth this particle of the divine essence.
Horace / Poet
Essence
Soul
Yesterday
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Abridge your hopes in proportion to the shortness of the span of human life; for while we converse, the hours, as if envious of our pleasure, fly away: enjoy, therefore, the present time, and trust not too much to what to-morrow may produce.
Horace / Poet
Fly Away
May
Too Much
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Sorrowful words become the sorrowful; angry words suit the passionate; light words a playful expression; serious words suit the grave. [Lat., Tristia maestum Vultum verba decent; iratum, plena minarum; Ludentem, lasciva: severum, seria dictu.]
Horace / Poet
Expression
Light
Passionate
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The body loaded by the excess of yesterday, depresses the mind also, and fixes to the ground this particle of divine breath. [Lat., Quin corpus onustum Hesternis vitiis, animum quoque praegravat una Atque affigit humo divinae particulam aurae.]
Horace / Poet
Depressing
Mind
Yesterday
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In the midst of hopes and cares, of apprehensions and of disquietude, regard every day that dawns upon you as if it was to be your last; then super-added hours, to the enjoyment of which you had not looked forward, will prove an acceptable boon.
Horace / Poet
Life
Care
Dawn
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It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows how to use with wisdom the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland.
Horace / Poet
Men
Blessing
Poverty
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Few cross the river of time and are able to reach non-being. Most of them run up and down only on this side of the river. But those who when they know the law follow the path of the law, they shall reach the other shore and go beyond the realm of death.
Horace / Poet
Death
Running
Law
Path
Shore
Up And Down
Beyond
Side
Run
Cross
Few
Follow
Reach
Realm
River
Shall
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What wonders does not wine! It discloses secrets; ratifies and confirms our hopes; thrusts the coward forth to battle; eases the anxious mind of its burden; instructs in arts. Whom has not a cheerful glass made eloquent! Whom not quite free and easy from pinching poverty!
Horace / Poet
Art
Glasses
Wine
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O drink is mighty! secrets it unlocks, Turns hope to fact, sets cowards on to box, Takes burdens from the careworn, finds out parts In stupid folks, and teaches unknown arts. What tongue hangs fire when quickened by the bowl? What wretch so poor but wine expands his soul?
Horace / Poet
Art
Stupid
Wine
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Who then is free? The wise who can command his passions, who fears not want, nor death, nor chains, firmly resisting his appetites and despising the honors of the world, who relies wholly on himself, whose angular points of character have all been rounded off and polished.
Horace / Poet
Wise
Character
Passion
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Virtue knowing no base repulse, shines with untarnished honour; nor does she assume or resign her emblems of honour by the will of some popular breeze. [Lat., Virtus repulse nescia sordidae, Intaminatis fulget honoribus; Nec sumit aut ponit secures Arbitrio popularis aurae.]
Horace / Poet
Doe
Knowing
Shining
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He possesses dominion over himself, and is happy, who can every day say, "I have lived." Tomorrow the heavenly father may either involve the world in dark clouds, or cheer it with clear sunshine, he will not, however, render ineffectual the things which have already taken place.
Horace / Poet
Life
Cheer
Father
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The poets aim is either to profit or to please, or to blend in one the delightful and the useful. Whatever the lesson you would convey, be brief, that your hearers may catch quickly what is said and faithfully retain it. Every superfluous word is spilled from the too-full memory.
Horace / Poet
Lessons
May
Memories
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Think of the wonders uncorked by wine! It opens secrets, gives heart to our hopes, pushes the cowardly into battle, lifts the load from anxious minds, and evokes talents. Thanks to the bottle's prompting no one is lost for words, no one who's cramped by poverty fails to find release.
Horace / Poet
Heart
Thinking
Wine
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He who postpones the hour of living as he ought, is like the rustic who waits for the river to pass along (before he crosses); but it glides on and will glide forever. [Lat., Vivendi recte qui prorogat horam Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis; at ille Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum.]
Horace / Poet
Life
Forever
Rivers
Waiting
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Not even for an hour can you bear to be alone, nor can you advantageously apply your leisure time, but you endeavor, a fugitive and wanderer, to escape from yourself, now vainly seeking to banish remorse by wine, and now by sleep; but the gloomy companion presses on you, and pursues you as you fly.
Horace / Poet
Leisure
Sleep
Wine
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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.
Horace / Poet
Pyramids
Wind
Years
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How does it happen, Maecenas, that no one is content with that lot in life which he has chosen, or which chance has thrown in his way, but praises those who follow a different course? [Lat., Qui fit, Maecenas, ut nemo quam sibi sortem, Seu ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit, illa Contentus vivat? laudet diversa sequentes.]
Horace / Poet
Different
Doe
Ratios
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When a man is just and firm in his purpose, The citizens burning to approve a wrong Or the frowning looks of a tyrant Do not shake his fixed mind, nor the Southwind. Wild lord of the uneasy Adriatic, Nor the thunder in the mighty hand of Jove: Should the heavens crack and tumble down, As the ruins crushed him he would not fear.
Horace / Poet
Men
Hands
Tyrants
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Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own: he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today. Be fair or foul or rain or shine, the joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, but what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
Horace / Poet
Fate
Motivation
Rain
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The aim of the poet is to inform or delight, or to combine together, in what he says, both pleasure and applicability to life. In instructing, be brief in what you say in order that your readers may grasp it quickly and retain it faithfully. Superfluous words simply spill out when the mind is already full. Fiction invented in order to please should remain close to reality.
Horace / Poet
Mind
Order
Reality
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Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight! Catullus, Selections From Catullus No poems can live long or please that are written by water-drinkers.
Horace / Poet
Boys
Strong
Wine
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Horace Quotes - Page 19

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