“The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved in amber, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.”

Be merry if you are wise.

Life is not merely to be alive, but to be well.

I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why; I can only say this, “I do not love thee.”

Laugh, if thou art wise.

A novice always behaves with propriety.

If you want him to mourn, you had best leave him nothing.

I do not hate the man, but his vices.

There is no glory in outstripping donkeys.

When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.

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.

That which prevents disagreeable flies from feeding on your repast, was once the proud tail of a splendid bird.

You admire, Vacerra, only the poets of old and praise only those who are dead. Pardon me, I beseech you, Vacerra, if I think death too high a price to pay for your praise.

See, how the liver is swollen larger than a fat goose! In amazement you will exclaim: Where could this possibly grow?

Live thy life as it were spoil and pluck the joys that fly.

He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whose book full of them?

You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.