Virgil

Fear is the proof of a degenerate mind.

There are twin Gates of Sleep.

One, they say, is called the Gate of Horn

and it offers easy passage to all true shades.

The other glistens with ivory, radiant, flawless,

but through it the dead send false dreams up toward the sky.

Each of us bears his own Hell.

Now, Aeneas, is the hour for courage, now for a dauntless heart!

Be warned; learn ye to be just and not to slight the gods!

Fickle and changeable always is woman.

Yield not to misfortunes, but advance all the more boldly against them.

Cease to think that the decrees of the gods can be changed by prayers.

I feel once more the scars of the old flame.

It is come—the last day and inevitable hour for Troy.

A greater history opens before my eyes,

A greater task awaits me.

Do not trust the horse, Trojans.

Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts.