O Charidas, what of the under world? Great darkness. And what of the resurrection? A lie. And Pluto? A fable; we perish utterly.

CALLIMACHUS

black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

O Charidas, what of the under world? Great darkness. And what of the resurrection? A lie. And Pluto? A fable; we perish utterly.

Related Topics

Bagwalas

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

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

Awake Pleasant
Set a thief to catch a thief.
CALLIMACHUS
A good man never dies.
CALLIMACHUS
Nothing unattested do I sing.

CALLIMACHUS

Nothing unattested do I sing.
CALLIMACHUS
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

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

Goddess Grace
Big book, a big bore.

CALLIMACHUS

Big book, a big bore.
CALLIMACHUS

Big
To little men, gods send little things.

CALLIMACHUS

To little men, gods send little things.
CALLIMACHUS

Small
A big book is a big misfortune.

CALLIMACHUS

A big book is a big misfortune.
CALLIMACHUS

Big
More lightly do his sorrows press upon a man, when to a friend or fellow traveller he tells his griefs.

CALLIMACHUS

More lightly do his sorrows press upon a man, when to a friend or fellow traveller he tells his griefs.
CALLIMACHUS
Here sleeps Saon, of Acanthus, son of Dicon, a holy sleep: say not that the good die.

CALLIMACHUS

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

Holy
O Charidas, what of the under world? Great darkness. And what of the resurrection? A lie. And Pluto? A fable; we perish utterly.

CALLIMACHUS

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

Vanish
A great book is like great evil.

CALLIMACHUS

A great book is like great evil.
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

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
I wept as I remembered how often you and I had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

CALLIMACHUS

I wept as I remembered how often you and I had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
CALLIMACHUS

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

CALLIMACHUS

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

Drink Roam

Created by Minimalist Quotes