Horace
Horace
Quintus Horatius Flaccus, known in the English-speaking world as Horace, was the leading Roman lyric poet during the time of Augustus. The rhetorician Quintilian regarded his Odes as just about the only Latin lyrics worth reading: "He can be lofty sometimes, yet he is also full of charm and grace, versatile in his figures, and felicitously daring in his choice of words."...
NationalityRoman
ProfessionPoet
anger madness
Anger is a short madness.
trying fool shame
It is the false shame of fools to try to conceal wounds that have not healed.
reality order mind
The aim of the poet is to inform or delight, or to combine together, in what he says, both pleasure and applicability to life. In instructing, be brief in what you say in order that your readers may grasp it quickly and retain it faithfully. Superfluous words simply spill out when the mind is already full. Fiction invented in order to please should remain close to reality.
succeed sat stills
He who feared that he would not succeed sat still.
arrows guilt defense
Virtue, dear friend, needs no defense, The surest guard is innocence: None knew, till guilt created fear, What darts or poisoned arrows were
each-day gains morrow
Cease to ask what the morrow will bring forth, and set down as gain each day that fortune grants.
political fickle vote
I court not the votes of the fickle mob.
environment refinement force
Drive Nature forth by force, she'll turn and rout The false refinements that would keep her out.
work obscure recreation
In labouring to be brief, I become obscure.
father injustice sin
Undeservedly you will atone for the sins of your fathers.
laughter joy love-and-laughter
Without love and laughter there is no joy; live amid love and laughter.
water stones durability
The foolish are like ripples on water, For whatsoever they do is quickly effaced; But the righteous are like carvings upon stone, For their smallest act is durable.
strong wine boys
Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight! Catullus, Selections From Catullus No poems can live long or please that are written by water-drinkers.
book men poet
Poets are never allowed to be mediocre by the gods, by men or by publishers.