Maxioms by Marcus Valerius Martial
Glory paid to our ashes comes too late.
[Lat., Cineri gloria sera est.]
Glory paid to our ashes comes too late.
[Lat., Cineri gloria sera est.]
To have nothing is not poverty.
[Lat., Non est paupertas, Nestor, habere nihil.]
To have nothing is not poverty.
[Lat., Non est paupertas, Nestor, habere nihil.]
Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.
[Lat., Fortuna multis dat nimis, satis nulli.]
Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.
[Lat., Fortuna multis dat nimis, satis nulli.]
To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis read more
To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
"To-morrow I will live," the fool does say:
To-day itself's too late;--the wise lived yesterday.
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
[Lat., Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.]
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
[Lat., Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.]
