black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

Callimachus

You’re walking by the tomb of Battiades, Who knew well how to write poetry, and enjoy Laughter at the right moment, over the wine.
CALLIMACHUS

Known Moments Poetry Walk Wisdom Writing
I wept as I remembered how often you and I had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
CALLIMACHUS

Himself Remember Sun Talk Weep
O Charidas, what of the under world? Great darkness. And what of the resurrection? A lie. And Pluto? A fable; we perish utterly.
CALLIMACHUS

Darkness Greatness Lying Vanish World
And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
CALLIMACHUS

Art Awake Himself Lying Old Pleasant
A great book is like great evil.
CALLIMACHUS

Book Evil Greatness
I abhor, too, the roaming lover, nor do I drink from every well; I loathe all things in common.
CALLIMACHUS

Common Drink Lover Myself Roam
A good man never dies.
CALLIMACHUS

Death Goodness Man
Big book, a big bore.
CALLIMACHUS

Big Book One Liner
Two goddesses now must Cyprus adore; The Muses are ten, and the Graces are four; Stella’s wit is so charming, so sweet her fair face, She shines a new Venus, a Muse, and a Grace.
CALLIMACHUS

Charm God Goddess Grace Shine
A big book is a big misfortune.
CALLIMACHUS

Big Book Misfortune One Liner
Nothing unattested do I sing.
CALLIMACHUS

Myself Sing
Set a thief to catch a thief.
CALLIMACHUS

Catch One Liner Thief
More lightly do his sorrows press upon a man, when to a friend or fellow traveller he tells his griefs.
CALLIMACHUS

Friendship Himself Light Man Sorrow
To little men, gods send little things.
CALLIMACHUS

God Man Small
Here sleeps Saon, of Acanthus, son of Dicon, a holy sleep: say not that the good die.
CALLIMACHUS

Death Goodness Holy Sleep

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

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Popular Authors

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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