Laudator Temporis Acti

A plant being continuously transplanted bears no fruit.

Φυτὸν µεταφερόµενον συνεχῶς καρπόν οὐ ποιεῖ.

Every man has his moral backside which he refrains from showing unless he has to and keeps covered as long as possible with the trousers of decorum.

Jeder Mensch hat auch seine moralische backside, die er nicht ohne Not zeigt, und die er so lange als möglich mit den Hosen des guten Anstandes zudeckt.

Some fly-by-night from god knows where — not worth his own piss.

larifuga nescio quis, nocturnus, qui non valet lotium suum.

To distribute equal shares to unequal sharers belongs to the greatest of injustices.

Τὸ νέµειν ἴσα τοῖς ἀνίσοις τῆς µεγίστης ἐστὶν ἀδικίας.

Like a bird that strays from its nest, is a man who strays from his home.

What is the nature of the wandering, whether of birds (cf. Isa 16:2) or humans? It hardly refers to occasional leaving and returning; rather it has to do with uprooting, moving away from one's origins and having no permanent dwelling. Sir 29:21-28 serves as appropriate comment on such a mode of existence. Our modern culture does not resonate in the same way to the realities assumed in the proverb, perhaps because movement and at least temporary settlement has simply become an accepted part of life. Some nations are highly conscious of their "turf," and this feeling appears to have been much stronger in Israelite life. It is also possible to interpret the wandering of the bird as a symbol of the fluctuations and inconsistencies in human existence.

"First it's one thing, then another," as the yokel said when he lost his spotted pig. What we haven't got today, we'll have tomorrow. That's the way life goes. Believe me, you couldn't name a better country, if it had the people. As things are, I admit, it's having a hard time, but it isn't the only place. We mustn't be soft. The sky don't get no nearer wherever you are. If you were somewhere else, you'd be talking about the pigs walking round ready-roasted back here.

'modo sic, modo sic' inquit rusticus; varium porcum perdiderat. quod hodie non est, cras erit: sic vita truditur. non mehercules patria melior dici potest, si homines haberet. sed laborat hoc tempore, nec haec sola. non debemus delicati esse, ubique medius caelus est. tu si aliubi fueris, dices hic porcos coctos ambulare.

In a word, the world itself is a maze, a labyrinth of errors, a desert, a wilderness, a den of thieves, cheaters, etc., full of filthy puddles, horrid rocks, precipitiums, an ocean of adversity, an heavy yoke, wherein infirmities and calamities overtake, and follow one another, as the sea waves; and if we scape Scylla, we fall foul on Charybdis, and so in perpetual fear, labour, anguish, we run from one plague, one mischief, one burden to another, duram servientes servitutem [undergoing a hard bondage], and you may as soon separate weight from lead, heat from fire, moistness from water, brightness from the sun, as misery, discontent, care, calamity, danger from a man.

Now I have need of juices by whose aid old age may be renewed
and may turn back to the bloom of youth and regain its early years.

nunc opus est sucis, per quos renovata senectus
in florem redeat primosque recolligat annos.

Beware
Those Who
Are ALWAYS
READING
BOOKS

New wine, new friend. When it grows old, you shall drink it with pleasure.

Οἶνος νέος φίλος νέος· ἐὰν δὲ παλαιωθῇ, µετ' εὐφροσύνης πίεσαι αὐτόν.