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
city country distant oh praise rome stars
In Rome you long for the country; in the country oh inconstant! you praise the distant city to the stars
city country distant oh praise rome stars
In Rome you long for the country; in the country oh inconstant! you praise the distant city to the stars
mind praise greedy
How slight and insignificant is the thing which casts down or restores a mind greedy for praise.
wine praise drunkards
The drunkard is convicted by his praises of wine.
hypocrite praise vicious
False praise can please, and calumny affright None but the vicious, and the hypocrite.
sky reign praise
I live and reign since I have abandoned those pleasures which you by your praises extol to the skies. [Lat., Vivo et regno, simul ista reliqui Quae vos ad coelum effertis rumore secundo.]
boyhood praise
He who sings the praises of his boyhood's days.
chance chosen content follow praise praises thrown
How does it happen, Maecenas, that no one is content with that lot of which he has chosen or which chance has thrown his way, but praises those who follow a different course?
may cost praise
You may be liberal in your praise where praise is due: it costs nothing; it encourages much.
emulation students praise
Praise begets emulation,--a goodly seed to sow among youthful students.
men chance praise
Consider carefully before you say a hard word to a man, but never let a chance to say a good one go by. Praise judiciously bestowed is money invested.
guilty pale secrets turn wall
Be this your wall of brass, to have no guilty secrets, no wrong-doing that makes you turn pale
struggle
I struggle to be brief, and I become obscure.
died pride vain
Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! They had no poet, and they died