black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.

Martial

If you want him to mourn, you had best leave him nothing.
MARTIAL

Himself Leaving Mourn
There is nothing more revolting than an old busybody.
MARTIAL

Body Old Revolution
You complain, friend Swift, of the length of my epigrams, but you yourself write nothing. Yours are shorter.
MARTIAL

Friendship Short Writing Yourself
There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair.
MARTIAL

Hairs Man Myself Pretend
See, how the liver is swollen larger than a fat goose! In amazement you will exclaim: Where could this possibly grow?
MARTIAL

Amazing Animal Food Growth Possible Yourself
The African lions rush to attack bulls; they do not attack butterflies.
MARTIAL

Advice Attack Deep Lion Rush
A good man enlarges the term of his own existence.
MARTIAL

Existence Goodness Himself Man Term
There is no glory in outstripping donkeys.
MARTIAL

Animal Glory
He who prefers to give Linus the half of what he wishes to borrow, rather than to lend him the whole, prefers to lose only the half.
MARTIAL

Borrow Himself Lose Preference
The present joys of life we doubly taste, By looking back with pleasure to the past.
MARTIAL

Doubt Ourselves Pleasure Present Taste
I have granted you much that you asked: and yet you never cease to ask of me. He who refuses nothing, Atticilla, will soon have nothing to refuse.
MARTIAL

Gratitude Greedy Myself Refusal
Givers of great dinners know few enemies.
MARTIAL

Enemy Food Greatness
You’re obstinate, pliant, merry, morose, all at once. For me there’s no living with you, or without you.
MARTIAL

Absence Love Myself Togetherness Yourself
Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.
MARTIAL

Enough Fortune Unfair
When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.
MARTIAL

Attendant Crowd Elegant Loud Praise Yourself
Epigrams need no crier, but are content with their own tongue.
MARTIAL

Content Language Need

You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Martial Quotes