Ovid

Art lies by its own artifice…

What is it that love does to a woman? Without she only sleeps with it…

Those things that nature denied to human sight, she revealed to the eyes of the…

First thing every morning before you arise say out loud, ‘I believe,’ three times…

Bear patiently with a rival…

An evil life is a kind of death…

Suppressed grief suffocates, it rages within the breast, and is forced to multiply its strength…

Happy is the man who has broken the chains which hurt the mind, and has…

My hopes are not always realized, but I always hope…

Habits change into character…

A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn…

Time is generally the best doctor…

Whether they give or refuse, it delights women just the same to have been asked…

Death is less bitter punishment than death’s delay…

Everyone wishes that the man whom he fears would perish…