Sextus Propertius was a Latin elegiac poet of the Augustan age. He was born around 50–45 BC in Assisium (now Assisi) and died shortly after 15 BC.[1] (wikipedia)
Every man now worships gold, all other reverence being done away.
Age makes all things greater after their death; a name comes to the tongue easier from the grave.
Let each man pass his days in that wherein his skill is greatest.
Love never offers to anyone wings so easy that he does not hold him back with his other hand.
Although strength should fail, the effort will deserve praise. In great enterprises the attempt is enough.
Not only the bull attacks his enemies with curved horn, but also the sheep, when harmed fights back.
Even a faithful mistress can be bent by constant threats.
By gold all good faith has been banished; by gold our rights are abused; the law itself is influenced by gold, and soon there will be an end of every modest restraint.
Let no one be willing to speak ill of the absent.
No rival will steal away my sure love; that glory will be my gray hair.
