Life’s not just about being alive, but being well.
MARTIALThis I ask, is it not madness to kill thyself in order to escape death?
More Martial Quotes
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It is not he who forms idols in gold or marble that makes them gods, but he who kneels before them.
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To have nothing is not poverty.
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Spare the person but lash the vice.
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See, how the liver is swollen larger than a fat goose! In amazement you will exclaim: Where could this possibly grow?
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However great the dish that holds the turbot, the turbot is still greater than the dish.
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When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.
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You ask what a nice girl will do? She won’t give an inch, but she won’t say no.
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The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.
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Be not too thick with anybody; your joys will be fewer, and so will pains.
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There is no glory in outstripping donkeys.
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A fisherman’s walk: three steps and overboard.
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You are so pure in mind and heart, In aspect, too, so mild, I wonder that you ever could Implant your wife with child.
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I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.
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Gifts are like hooks.
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The African lions rush to attack bulls; they do not attack butterflies.
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You should not fear, nor yet should you wish for your last day.
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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.
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In adversity it is easy to despise life; he is truly brave who can endure a wreched life.
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Life is not merely to be alive, but to be well.
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If I remember right, Aelia, you had four teeth; a cough displaced two, another two more. You can now cough without anxiety all the day long. A third cough can find nothing to do in your mouth.
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Your seventh wife, Phileros, is now being buried in your field. No man’s field brings him greater profit than yours, Phileros.
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My poems are naughty, but my life is pure.
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Every bird that upwards swings Bears the Cross upon its wings.
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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.
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It is as good as second life to be able to look back upon our past life with pleasure.
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You’re obstinate, pliant, merry, morose, all at once. For me there’s no living with you, or without you.
MARTIAL