There is a God within us and intercourse with heaven. [Lat., Est deus in nobis; et sunt commercia coeli.] — Ovid God Copy Share Image
Every delay that postpones our joys, is long. [Lat., Longa mora est nobis omnis, quae gaudia differt.] — Ovid Copy Share Image
Enhance and intensify one's vision of that synthesis of truth and beauty which is the highest and deepest reality. — Ovid Beauty Copy Share Image
Great talents, by the rust of long disuse, Grow lethargic and shrink from what they were. — Ovid Great talent Copy Share Image
What is hid is unknown: for what is unknown there is no desire. [Lat., Quod latet ignotum est; ignoti nulla cupido.] — Ovid Desire Copy Share Image
Heavens! what thick darkness pervades the minds of men. [Lat., Pro superi! quantum mortalia pectora caecae, Noctis habent.] — Ovid Darkness Copy Share Image
The applause and the favour of our fellow-men Fan even a spark of genius to a flame. — Ovid Applause Copy Share Image
We praise times past, while we times present use; Yet due the worship which to each we give. — Ovid Copy Share Image
Take this at least, this last advice, my son: Keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on: The coursers of themselves… — Ovid Advice Copy Share Image
You start in April and cross to the time of May One has you as it leaves, one as it comes Since… — Ovid April Copy Share Image
The mind is sicker than the sick body; in contemplation of its sufferings it becomes hopeless. [Lat., Corpore sed mens est aegro… — Ovid Body Copy Share Image
Sleep, thou repose of all things; sleep, thou gentlest of the deities; thou peace of the mind, from which care flies; who… — 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 Evil Copy Share Image
Truly it is allowed us to weep: by weeping we disperse our wrath; and tears go through the heart, even like a… — Ovid Heart Copy Share Image
Fair Flora! Now attend thy sportful feast, Of which some days I with design have past; A part in April and a… — Ovid April Copy Share Image
Thou fool, what is sleep but the image of death? Fate will give an eternal rest. [Lat., Stulte, quid est somnus, gelidae… — Ovid Death Copy Share Image