A Quote by Horace

In the capacious urn of death, every name is shaken.
[Lat., Omne capax movet urna nomen.] — © Horace
In the capacious urn of death, every name is shaken. [Lat., Omne capax movet urna nomen.]

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We are all compelled to take the same road; from the urn of death, shaken for all, sooner or later the lot must come forth. [Lat., Omnes eodem cogimur; omnium Versatur urna serius, ocius Sors exitura.]
There is another old poet whose name I do not now remember who said Truth is the daughter of Time. [Lat., Alius quidam veterum poetarum cuius nomen mihi nunc memoriae non est veritatem temporis filiam esse dixit.]
Every vice makes its guilt the more conspicuous in proportion to the rank of the offender. [Lat., Omne animi vitium tanto conspectius in se Crimen habet, quanto major qui peccat habetur.]
Everything unknown is magnified. [Lat., Omne ignotum pro magnifico est.]
Fate with impartial hand turns out the doom of high and low; her capacious urn is constantly shaking the names of all mankind.
The whole earth is the brave man's country. [Lat., Omne solum forti patria est.]
If an urn lacks the characteristics of an urn, how can we call it an urn?
The Bell never rings of itself; unless some one handles or moves it it is dumb. [Lat., Nunquam aedepol temere tinniit tintinnabulum; Nisi quis illud tractat aut movet, mutum est, tacet.]
Skilled in every trick, a worthy heir of his paternal craft, he would make black look like white, and white look black. [Lat., Furtum ingeniosus ad omne, Qui facere assueret, patriae non degener artis, Candida de nigris, et de candentibus atra.]
He who postpones the hour of living as he ought, is like the rustic who waits for the river to pass along (before he crosses); but it glides on and will glide forever. [Lat., Vivendi recte qui prorogat horam Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis; at ille Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum.]
Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily. Every day when one’s body and mind are at peace, one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears and swords, being carried away by surging waves, being thrown into the midst of a great fire, being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake, falling from thousand-foot cliffs, dying of disease or committing seppuku at the death of one’s master. And every day without fail one should consider himself as dead
What is thine is mine, and all mine is thine. [Lat., Quod tuum'st meum'st; omne meum est autem tuum.]
One evening, when I was yet in my nurse's arms, I wanted to touch the tea urn, which was boiling merrily ... My nurse would have taken me away from the urn, but my mother said "Let him touch it." So I touched it - and that was my first lesson in the meaning of liberty.
Death is not grievous to me, for I shall lay aside my pains by death. [Lat., Nec mihi mors gravis est posituro morte dolores.]
Death has shaken out the sands of thy glass.
Death is a mighty mediator. There all the flames of rage are extinguished, hatred is appeased, and angelic pity, like a weeping sister, bends with gentle and close embrace over the funeral urn.
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