Who then is free? the wise man who is lord over himself; Whom neither poverty nor death, nor chains alarm; strong to withstand his passions and despise honors, and who is completely finished and rounded off in himself. — Horace Copy Share Image
Whom does undeserved honour please, and undeserved blame alarm, but the base and the liar? — Horace Copy Share Image
Strange - is it not? That of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us… — Horace Copy Share
“Finxerunt animi, raro et perpauca loquentis. (To action little, less to words inclinded.)” — Horace Copy Share
No verse can give pleasure for long, nor last, that is written by drinkers of water. — Horace Copy Share
Fate with impartial hand turns out the doom of high and low; her capacious urn is constantly shaking the names of all mankind. — Horace Copy Share
In a moment comes either death or joyful victory. [Lat., Horae Momento cita mors venit aut victoria laeta.] — Horace Copy Share
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - It is a sweet and becoming thing to die for ones country. — Horace Copy Share
Neither men, nor gods, nor booksellers' shelves permit ordinary poets to exist. [Lat., Mediocribus esse poetis Non homines, non di, non concessere columnae.] — Horace Copy Share
Don't yield to that alluring witch, laziness, or else be prepared to surrender all that you have won in your better moments. — Horace Copy Share
Avoid inquisitive persons, for they are sure to be gossips, their ears are open to hear, but they will not keep what is entrusted… — Horace Copy Share
There is a proper measure in all things, certain limits beyond which and short of which right is not to be found. Who so… — Horace Copy Share
Alas, Postumus, the fleeting years slip by, nor will piety give any stay to wrinkles and pressing old age and untamable death. — Horace Copy Share
