Pale Death beats equally at the poor man's gate and at the palaces of kings. — Horace Copy Share Image
Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our… — Horace Copy Share Image
Be this thy brazen bulwark, to keep a clear conscience, and never turn pale with guilt. — Horace Copy Share Image
Pale death knocks with impartial foot at poor men's hovels and king's palaces. — Horace Copy Share Image
Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings. [Lat., Pallida mors aequo pulsat… — Horace Copy Share Image
Be this our wall of brass, to be conscious of having done no evil, and to grow pale at no accusation. — Horace Copy Share Image
Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale. — Horace Copy Share Image
Seest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with… — Horace Copy Share Image
Pale death with an impartial foot knocks at the hovels of the poor and the palaces of king. — Horace Copy Share Image
Pale death approaches with equal step, and knocks indiscriminately at the door of teh cottage, and the portals of the palace. — 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 Image
“Finxerunt animi, raro et perpauca loquentis. (To action little, less to words inclinded.)” — Horace Copy Share Image
No verse can give pleasure for long, nor last, that is written by drinkers of water. — Horace Copy Share Image
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 Image
In a moment comes either death or joyful victory. [Lat., Horae Momento cita mors venit aut victoria laeta.] — Horace Copy Share Image
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - It is a sweet and becoming thing to die for ones country. — Horace Copy Share Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
“You may drive out Nature with a pitchfork, yet she still will hurry back.” — Horace Copy Share Image
