The mind that's conscious of its rectitude, Laughs at the lies of rumor.
Good-bye to the lies of the poets. [Lat., Valeant mendacia vatum.]
Cunning leads to knavery. It is but a step from one to the other, and that very slippery. Only lying makes the difference; add that to cunning, and it is knavery.
The sea's vast depths lie open to the fish; Wherever the breezes blow the bird may fly; So to the brave man every land's a home.
Wine, not too much, inspires and make the mind,to the soft joys of Venus strong inclined,which, buried in excess, unapt to love,stupidly lies and knows not hom to move
Ovid lies here, the poet, skilled in love's gentle sport; By his own talents he worked his undoing. Oh, you who pass by, if ever you have loved, Think it not a burden to wish him calm repose.
Art lies by its own artifice.
Tis on the living Envy feeds. She silent grows When, after death, man's honor is his guard. So I, when on the pyre consumed I lie, Shall live, for all that's noblest will survive.
The art of medicine in the season lies: Wine given in season oft will benefit, Which out of season injures.
When a house is tottering to its fall, The strain lies heaviest on the weakest part, One tiny crack throughout the structure spreads, And its own weight soon brings it toppling down.
Art lies in concealing art.
The god we now behold with opened eyes, A herd of spotted panthers round him lies In glaring forms; the grapy clusters spread On his fair brows, and dangle on his head.
Safety lies in the middle course. [Lat., Medio tutissimus ibis.]
