VENICE VICE
Mille animos excipe mille modis.
Treat a thousand dispositions in a thousand ways.
| author = Ovid
| work = Ars Amatoria.
| place = Bk. I. 756.
| topic =
| page = 831
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 2
| text = <poem>Variety alone gives joy;
The sweetest meats the soonest cloy.
Weil Versehiedenheit des Nichts mehr ergotzt,
als Einerleiheit des Etwas.
For variety of mere nothings gives more
pleasure than uniformity of something.
Jean Paul Richter—Levana. Fragment V.
I. 100.
| seealso = (See also Cowper)
| topic =
| page = 831
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>When our old Pleasures die,
Some new One still is nigh;
Oh! fair Variety!
Nicholas Rowe—Ode for the New Year.
(1717)
| topic =
| page = 831
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Omnia mutatio loci jucunda fiet.
Every change of place becomes a delight.
• Seneca—Epistles. 28.
VENICE
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand;
I saw from out the wave her structure rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
Byron—Childe Harold. Canto IV. St. 1.
In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear.
| author = Byron
| work = Childe Harold. Canto IV. St. 3.
Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
| author = Byron
| work = Childe Harold. Canto IV. St. 3.
White swan of cities, slumbering in thy nest
So wonderfully built among the reeds
Of the lagoon, that fences thee and feeds,
As sayeth thy old historian and thy guest!
| author = Longfellow
| work = Venice.
The sylphs and ondines
And the sea-kings and queens %
Long ago, long ago, on the waves built a city,
As lovely as seems
To some bard in his dreams,
The soul of his latest love-ditty.
Owen Meredith—Venice.
li
Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee,
And was the safeguard of the West.
Wordsworth—Sonnet on the extinction of the
Venetian Republic.
VICE
De vitus nostris scalam nobis facimus, si vitia
ipsa calcamus.
We make a ladder for ourselves of our vices,
if we trample those same vices underfoot.
St. Augustine—Sermon 3. De Ascensione.
| seealso = (See also Longfellow)
| topic =
| page = 831
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Vitia temporis; vitia hominis.
Vices of the time; vices of the man.
Bacon—Humble Submission and Supplication
to the Lords of Parliament. (1621)
| topic =
| page = 831
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Vice gets more in this vicious world
Than piety.
| author = Beaumont and Fletcher
| work = Love's Cure. Act
III. Sc. 1.
Vice itself lost half its evil, by losing all its
grossness.
Burke—Reflections on the Revolution in France.
To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down.
| author = Byron
| work = English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.
L. 621.
And lash the Vice and Follies of the Age.
Susannah Centlivre—Prologue to The Man's
Bewitched.
Ne'er blush'd, unless, in spreading vice's snares,
She blunder'd on some virtue unawares.
Churchill—The Rosciad. L. 137.
What maintains one vice would bring up two
children.
Franklin—Poor Richard's Almanac.
Omne animi vitium tanto conspectius in se
Crimen habet, quanto major qui peccat habetur.
Every vice makes its guilt the more conspicuous in proportion to the rank of the
offender.
Juvenal—Satires. VIII. 140.
We do not despise all those who have vices,
but we despise all those who have not a single
virtue.
La Rochefoucauld—Maxims. No. 195.
A vice is a failure of desire.
Gerald Stanley Lee—Crowds. Bk. IV.
Ch. XIII.
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame.
| author = Longfellow
| work = The Ladder of St. Augustine.
St. 1.
| seealso = (See also Augustine, also Longfellow under Growth)
| topic =
| page = 831
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of vice be lost?
| author = Pope
| work = Epilogue to Satires. Dialogue I.
{{Hoyt quote
| num = | text = <poem>Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
