Rare is the virtue that's not ruled by Fortune, That stands unshaken even when Fortune flees. — Ovid Copy Share Image
The rest of the crowd were friends of my fortune, not of me. [Lat., Caetera fortunae, non mea, turba fuit.] — Ovid Copy Share Image
The most wretched fortune is safe; for there is no fear of anything worse. [Lat., Fortuna miserrima tuta est: Nam timor eventus… — Ovid Copy Share Image
Every man should stay within his own fortune. [Lat., Intera fortunam quisque debet manere suam.] — Ovid Copy Share Image
Nowadays nothing but money counts: a fortune brings honors, friendships, the poor man everywhere lies low. — Ovid Copy Share Image
With wavering steps does fickle fortune stray, Nowhere she finds a firm and fixed abode; But now all smiles, and now again… — Ovid Copy Share Image
A broken fortune is like a falling column; the lower it sinks, the greater weight it has to sustain. — Ovid Copy Share Image
I am above being injured by fortune, though she steals away much, more will remain with me. The blessing I now enjoy… — Ovid Copy Share Image
Beneath the sun's rays our shadow is our comrade; When clouds obscure the sun our shadow flees. So Fortune's smiles the fickle… — Ovid Copy Share Image
When worse may yet befall, there's room for prayer, But when our fortune's at its lowest ebb, We trample fear beneath our… — Ovid Copy Share Image
Every woman thinks herself attractive; even the plainest is satisfied with the charms she deems that she possesses. — Ovid Copy Share Image
Suppressed grief suffocates, it rages within the breast, and is forced to multiply its strength. — Ovid Copy Share Image
A mind conscious of right laughs at the falsehoods of rumour. [Lat., Conscia mens recti famae mendacia risit.] — Ovid Copy Share Image
It is convenient that there be gods, and, as it is convenient, let us believe there are. — Ovid Copy Share Image
I hate a woman who offers herself because she ought to do so, and cold and dry thinks of her sewing when making love. — Ovid Copy Share Image
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… — Ovid Copy Share Image
Rare is the virtue that's not ruled by Fortune, That stands unshaken even when Fortune flees. — Ovid Copy Share Image
Thus all things altered. Nothing dies. And here and there the unbodied spirit flies. — Ovid Copy Share Image
