A Quote by Horace

The mountains are in labour, the birth will be an absurd little mouse. — © Horace
The mountains are in labour, the birth will be an absurd little mouse.

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Mountains will go into labour, and a silly little mouse will be born.
What will this boaster produce worthy of this mouthing? The mountains are in labor; a ridiculous mouse will be born. [Lat., Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu? Parturiunt montes; nascetur ridiculus mus.]
Two little mice fell in a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned. The second mouse, wouldn't quit. He struggled so hard that eventually he churned that cream into butter and crawled out. Gentlemen, as of this moment, I am that second mouse.
We will renew our party, to rebuild our land - and we will do it by being a better Labour, real Labour, Scottish Labour.
Before practicing meditation, we see that mountains are mountains. When we start to practice, we see that mountains are no longer mountains. After practicing a while, we see that mountains are again mountains. Now the mountains are very free. Our mind is still with the mountains, but it is no longer bound to anything.
Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous - to poetry. But also, it gives birth to the opposite: to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd.
God is in the mountains. Impassive, immovable, jagged giants, separating the celestial from the terrestrial with eternal diagonal certainty. As if silently monitoring the beating heart of the creator from the universe's perfect birth. Stood in the thin air and the awe, one inhales God, involuntarily acknowledging that we are but fragments of a whole, a higher thing. The mountains remind me of my place, as a servant to truth and wonder. Yes, God is in the mountains. Perhaps the pulpit too and even in the piety of an atheist's sigh. I don't know; but I feel him in the mountains.
In America you have the mouse now trying to sit down on the elephant, thinking that he's going somewhere. And it's - and it's absurd.
I saw 'New Labour'conceived, watched it gestate, witnessed its birth and growth. Now I fervently hope I will be present at its death.
This dapper little mouse that wore such cute clothes and said such interesting things, yeah. I thought it was a great idea to have a mouse like that in your family, so now I get to see what it was like.
I did meet Mickey Mouse in California, and he seems to be writing the Labour party's economic policy at the moment.
Nearly everything possible had been done to spoil the game: the heavy financial interest; the absurd transfer and player-selling system; the lack of any birth or residential qualifications; the absurd publicity given to every feature of it by the press; the monstrous partisanships of the crowds.
If you pursue an evenhanded policy between a cat and a mouse, do you help the mouse to survive - or allow the cat to eat half the mouse?
I will not become a Napoleon nor an Alexander, and labour for my own ambition; but I will labour for freedom and for the moral well-being of man.
The secret of the mountain is that the mountains simply exist, as I do myself: the mountains exist simply, which I do not. The mountains have no "meaning," they are meaning; the mountains are. The sun is round. I ring with life, and the mountains ring, and when I can hear it, there is a ringing that we share. I understand all this, not in my mind but in my heart, knowing how meaningless it is to try to capture what cannot be expressed, knowing that mere words will remain when I read it all again, another day.
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.
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