When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.
MARTIALEvery epigram should resemble a bee; it should have sting, honey, and brevity.
More Martial Quotes
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You importune me, Tucca, to present you with my books. I shall not do so; for you want to sell, not to read, them.
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Believing hear, what you deserve to hear: Your birthday as my own to me is dear. But yours gives most; for mine did only lend Me to the world; yours gave to me a friend.
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She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
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Glory comes too late when we are nought but ashes.
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The present joys of life we doubly taste, By looking back with pleasure to the past.
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Rarity gives a charm; so early fruits and winter roses are the most prized; and coyness sets off an extravagant mistress, while the door always open tempts no suitor.
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I have not hated the man, but his faults.
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Gifts are like hooks.
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This I ask, is it not madness to kill thyself in order to escape death?
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It is not, believe me, the act of a wise man to say, “I will live.” To-morrow’s life is too late; live to-day.
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While an ant was wandering under the shade of the tree of Phaeton, a drop of amber enveloped the tiny insect; thus she, who in life was disregarded, became precious by death.
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He who thinks that the lives of Priam and of Nestor were long is much deceived and mistaken. Life consists not in living, but in enjoying health.
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If you want him to mourn, you had best leave him nothing.
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Such are thou and I: but what I am thou canst not be; what thou art any one of the multitude may be.
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Man loves malice, but not against one-eyed men nor the unfortunate, but against the fortunate and proud.
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It is easy in adversity to despise death; he has real fortitude who dares to live and be wretched.
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Wish to be what you are, and wish for no other position.
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I’m what I seem; not any dyer gave, But nature dyed this colour that I have.
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That which prevents disagreeable flies from feeding on your repast, was once the proud tail of a splendid bird.
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You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.
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He who prefers to give Linus the half of what he wishes to borrow, rather than to lend him the whole, prefers to lose only the half.
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Every epigram should resemble a bee; it should have sting, honey, and brevity.
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Gifts are like fish-hooks; for who is not aware that the greedy char is deceived by the fly which he swallows?
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I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name.
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I seem to you cruel and too much addicted to gluttony, when I beat my cook for sending up a bad dinner. If that appears to you too trifling a cause, say for what cause you would have a cook flogged.
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You are sad in the midst of every blessing. Take care that Fortune does not observe–or she will call you ungrateful.
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