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

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
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
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
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
Set a thief to catch a thief.
CALLIMACHUS

Catch One Liner Thief
To little men, gods send little things.
CALLIMACHUS

God Man Small
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
A great book is like great evil.
CALLIMACHUS

Book Evil Greatness
Big book, a big bore.
CALLIMACHUS

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

Death Goodness Holy Sleep
Nothing unattested do I sing.
CALLIMACHUS

Myself Sing
A big book is a big misfortune.
CALLIMACHUS

Big Book Misfortune One Liner
A good man never dies.
CALLIMACHUS

Death Goodness Man
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
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

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

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

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Popular Authors

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