Ovid, formally Publius Ovidius Naso

Ovid, formally Publius Ovidius Naso
43 B.C.
17 A.D.

Roman Poet, Man of Letters

Author Quotes

The good are heaven's peculiar care.

Our minds are circumscribed by our immediate reality but we stop short at the thought of it.

Pursuits become habits.

She only is chaste, who is chaste where there is no danger of detection: she who does not, because she may not, does.

So, when a feast abound in the gifts of Bacchus, if a girl you're attracted to standing near you in bed, pray to the father of joy, whose mysteries are celebrated in the evening, the vapors Wine not get to upset your head. Alli will be allowed to send to your beautiful words insinuating speeches evenings not escape his insight and the implement itself; Read at the table with drops of wine sweetest tenderness, in which your friend guess your overwhelming passion, and his nails in your eyes breathing fire. Mute countenance speaks at times with singular eloquence.

That pleasure which can be safely indulged in is the least inviting.

The deed I intend is great, but what, as yet, I know not.

The good of other times let people state; I think it lucky I was born so late.

Our native land attracts us with some mysterious charm, never to be forgotten.

Pythagoras said: "I add: in all this world, nothing can keep its form. For all things flow; all things are born to change their shapes. And time itself is like a river, flowing on an endless course. Witness: no stream and no swift moment can relent; they must forever flow; just as wave follows wave, and every wave is pressed, and also presses on the wave ahead; so, too, must moments always be renewed. What was is now no more; and what was not has come to be; renewal is the lot of time."

She that weds well will wisely match her love, nor be below her husband nor above.

Some report elsewhere whatever is told them; the measure of fiction always increases, and each fresh narrator adds something to what he has heard.

That said, before she left, the goddess sprinkled the juices of the herbs of Hecate over Arachne; at that venom's touch, her hair and then her eyes and ears fell off and all her body sank. And at her sides, her slender fingers clung to her as legs. The rest is belly; but from this, Arachne spins out a thread; again, she practices her weaver's art, as once she fashioned webs. (

The deeds of men never escape the gods.

The heavier crop is ever in others' fields.

Our native land charms us with inexpressible sweetness, and never allows us to forget that we belong to it.

Quarrels are the dowry which married folk bring one another.

Simplicity is a jewel rarely found.

Someday this pain will be useful to you.

That tuneful nymph, the babbling echo, who has not learned to conceal what is told her, nor yet is able to speak till another speaks.

The dove, O hawk, that has once been wounded by thy talons, is frightened by the least movement of a wing.

The high-spirited man may indeed die, but he will not stoop to meanness. Fire, though it may be quenched, will not become cool.

Our neighbor's crop is always more fruitful and his cattle produce more milk than our own.

Remove but the temptations of leisure, and the bow of Cupid will lose its effect.

Skill makes love unending.

Author Picture
First Name
Ovid, formally Publius Ovidius Naso
Birth Date
43 B.C.
Death Date
17 A.D.
Bio

Roman Poet, Man of Letters