You are so pure in mind and heart, In aspect, too, so mild, I wonder that you ever could Implant your wife with child.
MARTIALI believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.
More Martial Quotes
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Live thy life as it were spoil and pluck the joys that fly.
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You crystal break, for fear of breaking it: Careless and careful hands like faults commit.
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It is feeling and force of imagination that make us eloquent.
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Your page stands against you and says to you that you are a thief.
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In adversity it is easy to despise life; he is truly brave who can endure a wretched life.
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From no place can you exclude the fates.
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A jar of wine so priceless did not deserve to die. and Never think of leaving perfume or wines to your heir. Administer these youself and let him have the money.
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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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Givers of great dinners know few enemies.
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Virtue extends our days: he lives two lives who relives his past with pleasure.
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Whoever is not too wise is wise.
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There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
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Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.
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Such are thou and I: but what I am thou canst not be; what thou art any one of the multitude may be.
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You praise, in three hundred verses, Sabellus, the baths of Ponticus, who gives such excellent dinners. You wish to dine, Sabellus, not to bathe.
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Joys do not stay, but take wing and fly away.
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Why do strong arms fatigue themselves with frivolous dumbbells? To dig a vineyard is worthier exercise for men.
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While you cannot resolve what you are, at last you may be nothing.
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I wont let a wife lead me to the altar.
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The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.
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I would not miss your face, your neck, your hands, your limbs, your bosom and certain other of your charms. Indeed, not to become boring by naming them all, I could do without you, Chloe, altogether.
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Tomorrow’s life is too late. Live today.
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If fame is to come only after death, I am in no hurry for it.
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Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that’s how a book of poems is made, my Friend.
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He truly sorrows who sorrows unseen.
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It is not, believe me, the act of a wise man to say, “I will live.” To-morrow’s life is too late; live to-day.
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