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
fear great greek-poet man pleasant seems tried
To have a great man for a friend seems pleasant to those who have never tried it; those who have, fear it.
fear footprint frightened
I am frightened at seeing all the footprints directed towards thy den, and none returning.
anxiety hopes-and-fears
Twixt hope and fear, anxiety and anger.
courage fear
Courage is the fear of being thought a coward.
country evil fearless
Our country right or wrong is an evil motto - what if your country be in the wrong? It will only compound her injury. I wish to serve the republic with an honest and fearless criticism.
pain fear loneliness
We are largely the playthings of our fears. To one, fear of the dark; to another, of physical pain; to a third, of public ridicule; to a fourth, of poverty; to a fifth, of loneliness ... for all of us, our particular creature waits in ambush.
death fear pride
Generosity during life is a very different thing from generosity in the hour of death; one proceeds from genuine liberality and benevolence, the other from pride or fear.
asking count everyday fortune grants happen refrain
Refrain from asking what is going to happen tomorrow, and everyday that fortune grants you, count as gain.
struggle
I struggle to be brief, and I become obscure.
fathers though
Though guiltless, you must expiate your fathers' sins.
approval greek-poet pleasant
He gains everyone's approval who mixes the pleasant with the useful.
disgrace greek-poet keeps
The disgrace of others often keeps tender minds from vice.
greek-poet
He has the deed half done who has made a beginning.
discover greek-poet passed returns road strange travel
Strange - is it not? That of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the road Which to discover we must travel too.