Ovid

We all conceal
A god within us, we all deal
With heaven direct, from whose high places we derive
The inspiration by which we live.

Fas est et ab hoste doceri.

Their useless torches on dry hedges throw,
That catch the flames, and kindle all the row;
So burns the God, consuming in desire,
And feeding in his breast a fruitless fire

Turpe quidem dictu, sed, si modo vera fatemur,
vulgus amicitias utilitate probat.

fear feeds fear when knowledge fails

Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim. (Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.)

Neque enim lex aequior ulla est,
Quam necis artifices arte perire sua.

Love is a kind of warfare.

Philemon counselled with old Baucis first;
and then discovered to the listening Gods
their hearts' desire, ‘We pray you let us have
the care of your new temple; and since we
have passed so many years in harmony,
let us depart this life together — Let
the same hour take us both — I would not see
the tomb of my dear wife; and let me not
be destined to be buried by her hands!’
At once their wishes were fulfilled. So long
as life was granted they were known to be
the temple's trusted keepers, and when age
had enervated them with many years,
as they were standing, by some chance, before
the sacred steps, and were relating all
these things as they had happened, Baucis saw
Philemon, her old husband, and he, too,
saw Baucis, as their bodies put forth leaves;
and while the tops of trees grew over them,
above their faces, — they spoke each to each;
as long as they could speak they said, ‘Farewell,
farewell, my own’ — and while they said farewell;
new leaves and branches covered both at once.

Heu quantum scelus est in viscera viscera condi
ingestoque avidum pinguescere corpore corpus
alteriusque animans animantis vivere leto!
Scilicet in tantis opibus, quas, optima matrum,
terra parit, nil te nisi tristia mandere saevo
vulnera dente iuvat ritusque referre Cyclopum,
nec, nisi perdideris alium, placare voracis
et male morati poteris ieiunia ventris!

Ii dau de lucru mintii si-ami amagesc durerea
A' mele suferinte incerc sa mi le-nsel.

Ars adeo latet arte sua.

Poetry comes fine-spun from a mind at ease.

Chance is always powerful. Let your hook always be cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be fish.

Si nec blanda satis, nec erit tibi comis amanti,
Perfer et obdura: postmodo mitis erit.
Flectitur obsequio curvatus ab arbore ramus:
Frangis, si vires experiere tuas.
Obsequio tranantur aquae: nec vincere possis
Flumina, si contra, quam rapit unda, nates.