“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.”

You are so pure in mind and heart, In aspect, too, so mild, I wonder that you ever could Implant your wife with child.

Whoever is not too wise is wise.

The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.

Epigrams need no crier, but are content with their own tongue.

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.

I wont let a wife lead me to the altar.

I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.

Why do strong arms fatigue themselves with frivolous dumbbells? To dig a vineyard is worthier exercise for men.

Your page stands against you and says to you that you are a thief.

One genius has made many clever artists.

The African lions rush to attack bulls; they do not attack butterflies.

I know all that better than my own name.

What quick wit is found in sudden straits!

Who gives to friends so much from Fate secures, That is the only wealth for ever yours.

You are sad in the midst of every blessing. Take care that Fortune does not observe–or she will call you ungrateful.

To be able to enjoy one’s past life is to live twice.

Monks understand that routine frees your mind, but the biggest threat to that freedom is monotony. People complain about their poor memories, but I’ve heard it said that we don’t have a retention problem, we have an attention problem.

I don’t drink, fight & womanise. I am not a wife beater. I don’t do nude covers. I don’t have a 12-inch long you know what … I am quite boring.

You look at Moto3, the races are very exciting. Moto2 is fantastic, and then MotoGP is boring.

Something doing every minute’ may be a gesture of despair-or the height of a battle against boredom.

When people are bored it is primarily with themselves.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.

Those who have mastered etiquette, who are entirely, impeccably right, would seem to arrive at a point of exquisite dullness.