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The Aeneid (c. 29 B.C.)

O tyrant love, to what do you not drive the hearts of men.

It is easy to go down into Hell;
Night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide;
But to climb back again, to retrace one's steps to the upper air--
There's the rub, the task.

If I can not bend Heaven, I shall move Hell.

Fortune favours the brave.

Let us make, instead of war,
an everlasting peace and plighted wedding.
You have what you were bent upon: she burns
with love; the frenzy now is in her bones.
Then let us rule this people--you and I--
with equal auspices.

Woman is ever fickle and changeable.

What each man does will shape his trial and fortune.

Accursed greed for gold, to what dost thou not drive the heart of man.

To extend one's fame by deeds, that is the work of valor.

There are two gates of Sleep: the one is said
to be of horn, through it an easy exit
is given to true Shades; the other is made
of polished ivory, perfect glittering,
but through that way the Spirits send false dreams
into the world above.

They can because they think they can.

Yield not to evils, but attack all the more boldly.

Endure, and keep yourselves for days of happiness.

Each of us bears his own Hell.

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