Virgil - Georgics

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Thus every creature, and of every kind,
The secret joys of sweet coition find.
Not only man's imperial race, but they
That wing the liquid air, or swim the sea,
Or haunt the desert, rush into the flame:
For love is lord of all, and is in all the same.

Virgil
But meanwhile it is flying, irretrievable time is flying.

Virgil
Unremitting labour
And harsh necessity's hand will master anything.

Virgil
The fatter earth by handling we may find,
With ease distinguished from the meagre kind:
Poor soil will crumble into dust; the rich
Will to the fingers cleave like clammy pitch.

Virgil
Three times they endeavoured to pile Ossa on Pelion, no less, and to roll leafy Olympus on top of Ossa; three times our Father broke up the towering mountains with a thunderbolt.

Virgil
And the shore echoes the song of the kingfisher, and the woods echo the song of the goldfinch.

Virgil
All, with united force, combine to drive The lazy drones from the laborious hive.

Virgil
Lucky is he who has been able to understand the causes of things.
Of lucretius

Virgil
For God the whole created mass inspires:
Through heaven and earth and ocean's depth he throws
His influence round, and kindles as he goes.

Virgil
A wet summer and a fine winter should be the farmer's prayer.

Virgil
Toil conquered the world, unrelenting toil, and want that pinches when life is hard.

Virgil
Starting with a bound, He turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground: Fire from his eyes, clouds from his nostrils flow.

Virgil
Then thus the bride: What fury seized on thee,
Unhappy man! to lose thyself and me?
Dragged back again by cruel destinies,
An iron slumber shuts my swimming eyes.
And now farewell! Involved in shades of night,
For ever I am ravish'd from thy sight.
In vain I reach my feeble hands to join
In sweet embraces—ah! no longer thine!

Virgil
Thus all below, whether by Nature's curse,
Or Fate's decree, degenerate still to worse:
So the boat's brawny crew the current stem,
And, slow advancing, struggle with the stream:
But if they slack their hands, or cease to strive,
Then down the flood with headlong haste they drive.

Virgil
Swim through the serene summer sky.

Virgil
New ways I must attempt, my groveling name
To raise aloft, and wing my flight to fame.

Virgil