“No man is quick enough to enjoy life.”

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.

Be satisfied, and pleased with what thou art, Act cheerfully and well thou allotted part; Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past, And neither fear, nor wish, the approaches of the last.

It is easy in adversity to despise death; he has real fortitude who dares to live and be wretched.

From no place can you exclude the fates.

Such are thou and I: but what I am thou canst not be; what thou art any one of the multitude may be.

If fame is to come only after death, I am in no hurry for it.

A man who lives everywhere lives nowhere.