In Recounting Our Woes, We Often Soothe

I Am Roman, Alas, Because Horace Is Roman.

Love Is A Tyrant Sparing None.

All Evils Are Equal When They Are Extreme.

The Fire Which Seems Extinguished Often Slumbers Beneath The Ashes.

Oh, How Sweet It Is To Pity The Fate Of An Enemy Who Can No Longer Threaten Us!