Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus)

Mad in the judgment of the mob, sane, perhaps, in yours.
[Lat., Demens
Judicio vulgi, sanus fortasse read more

Mad in the judgment of the mob, sane, perhaps, in yours.
[Lat., Demens
Judicio vulgi, sanus fortasse tuo.]

Though your threshing floor grind a hundred thousand bushels of
corn, not for that reason will your stomach hold read more

Though your threshing floor grind a hundred thousand bushels of
corn, not for that reason will your stomach hold more than mine.
[Lat., Millia frumenti tua triverit area centum.
Non tuus hinc capiet venter plus ac meus.]

What impropriety or limit can there be in our grief for a man so
beloved?
[Lat., Quis desiderio read more

What impropriety or limit can there be in our grief for a man so
beloved?
[Lat., Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tam cari capitis?]

They change their sky, not their mind, who cross the sea. A busy
idleness possesses us: we seek a read more

They change their sky, not their mind, who cross the sea. A busy
idleness possesses us: we seek a happy life, with ships and
carriages: the object of our search is present with us.
[Lat., Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt.
Strenua nos exercet inertia, navibus atque
Quadrigis petimus bene vivere; quod petis hic est.]

All men do not, in fine, admire or love the same thing.

All men do not, in fine, admire or love the same thing.