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
beautiful views atheism
Nothing's beautiful from every point of view.
beautiful all-things
All things considered, nothing is beautiful.
beautiful summer winter
Our [British] summers are often, though beautiful for verdure, so cold, that they are rather cold winters.
beautiful regret wrinkles
Defaced ruins of architecture and statuary, like the wrinkles of decrepitude of a once beautiful woman, only make one regret that one did not see them when they were enchanting.
beautiful art way
Poetry is a beautiful way of spoiling prose, and the laborious art of exchanging plain sense for harmony.
beautiful names drawing
Be sure that Christ is not behind you, but before, calling and drawing you on. This is the liberty, the beautiful liberty of Christ. Claim your glorious privilege in the name of a disciple; be no more a servant, when Christ will own you as a friend.
beautiful character doe
Christ does not dress up a moral picture, and ask you to observe its beauty. He only tells you how to live; and the most beautiful characters the world has ever seen, have been those who received and lived these precepts without once conceiving their beauty.
beautiful character office
There never has been a great and beautiful character, which has not become so by filling well the ordinary and smaller offices appointed of God.
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.
greek-poet man
The man is either mad, or he is making verses.
greek-poet struggle
It is when I struggle to be brief that I become obscure.