Horace Quotes
Quintus Horatius Flaccus (8 December 65 BC – 27 November 8 BC), known in the English-speaking world as Horace, was the leading lyric poet in Latin.
- Philosophers
- Poets
- Satirists
Also known as: Quintus Horatius Flaccus
Random Horace quote
314 quotes
Patience makes lighter
What sorrow may not heal. ("sed levius fit patientia quidquid corrigere est nefas")
Who then is sane? He who is not a fool.
Oh yes! believe me, you must draw your pen
Not once or twice, but o’er and o’er again
Through what you’ve written, if you would entice
The man that reads you once to read you twice,
Not making popular applause your cue,
But looking to fit audience, although few.
no verses which are written by water-drinkers can please, or be long-lived
The irritable tribe of poets.
Good authors, take a brother bard’s advice:
Ponder your subject o’er not once or twice,
And oft and oft consider if the weight
You hope to lift be, or be not too great.
Let but our theme be equal to our powers,
Choice language, clear arrangement, both are ours.
When you wish to instruct, be brief; that men’s minds may take in quickly what you say, learn its lesson, and retain it faithfully. Every word that is unnecessary only pours over the side of a brimming mind.
Ars Poetica, or The Epistle to the Pisones (-18)
The poet's aim is either to profit or to please, or to blend in one the delightful and the useful. Whatever the lesson you would convey, be brief, that your hearers may catch quickly what is said and faithfully retain it. Every superfluous word is spilled from the too-full memory.
But he who meditates a work of art,
Oft as he writes will act the censor’s part:
Is there a word wants nobleness and grace,
Devoid of weight, nor worthy of high place?
He bids it go though stiffly it decline,
And cling and cling like suppliant to a shrine.
I have reared a memorial more enduring than brass, and loftier than the regal structure of the pyramids, which neither the corroding shower nor the powerless north wind can destroy; no, not even unending years nor the flight of time itself. I shall not entirely die. The greater part of me shall escape oblivion.
But if ever you shall write any thing, let it be submitted to the ears of Metius [Tarpa], who is a judge, and your father’s, and mine; and let it be suppressed till the ninth year, your papers being laid up within your own custody. You will have it in your power to blot out what you have not made public: a word once sent abroad can never return.
Ars Poetica, or The Epistle to the Pisones (-18)
From the eggs to the apples.
Come, Mercury, by whose minstrel spell
Amphion raised the Theban stones,
Come, with thy seven sweet strings, my shell,
Thy "diverse tones,"
Nor vocal once nor pleasant, now
To rich man's board and temple dear:
Put forth thy power, till Lyde bow Her stubborn ear.
Odes (-23)
Art is long, life is short.
Misattributed