In an easy matter. Anybody can be eloquent.

He whom all hate all wish to see destroyed.

The heavier crop is ever in others' fields.

Make the workmanship surpass the materials.

Happy the man who can count his sufferings.

Grief brims itself and flows away in tears.

Burdens become light when cheerfully borne.

Take away leisure and Cupid's bow is broken

A boar is often held by a not-so-large dog.

The battle is over when the foe has fallen.

I hate, and yet must love the thing I hate.

Most safely shall you tread the middle path.

While I am speaking the opportunity is lost.

Isn't the best defense always a good attack?

I flee who chases me and chase who flees me.

All love is vanquished by a succeeding love.

You will be melancholy, if you are solitary.

Pluck with quick hand the fruit that passes.

It is not easy to bear prosperity unruffled.

When you have set yourself a task finish it.

The love of glory gives an immense stimulus.

He who says o'er much I love not is in love.

It is the act of a coward to wish for death.

Poetry comes fine-spun from a mind at peace.

The mind ill at ease, the body suffers also.

Beauty- it was a favor bestowed by the gods.

A pleasing countenance is no light advantage.

Love and dignity cannot share the same abode.

No thanks attach to a kindness long deferred.

Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name.

A woman is a creature that's always shopping.

Destroy our leisure and you break love's bow.

The burden which is well borne becomes light.

Diseases of the mind impair the bodily powers.

Sickness seizes the body from bad ventilation.

If you would marry suitably, marry your equal.

Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses.

Agreeing to differ. [Lat., Discors concordia.]

Good hope is often beguiled by her own augury.

When disposition wins us, the features please.

Be bold, take courage... and be strong of soul

What follows I flee; what flees I ever pursue.

Nothing is more powerful than custom or habit.

A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.

The sharp thorn often produces delicate roses.

Forbear to lay the guilt of a few on the many.

Presents, believe me, seduce both men and gods.

Envy depreciates the genius of the great Homer.

It is the poor man who'll ever count his flock.

It is art to conceal art. -Ars est celare artem

Share This Page