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

Martial

This I ask, is it not madness to kill thyself in order to escape death?
MARTIAL

Death Escape Kill Madness Order
You praise, in three hundred verses, Sabellus, the baths of Ponticus, who gives such excellent dinners. You wish to dine, Sabellus, not to bathe.
MARTIAL

Excellence Praise Verse Yourself
You should not fear, nor yet should you wish for your last day.
MARTIAL

Day Fear Yourself
No amount of misfortune will satisfy the man who is not satisfied with reading a hundred epigrams.
MARTIAL

Misfortune Reading Satisfaction
However great the dish that holds the turbot, the turbot is still greater than the dish.
MARTIAL

Food Greatness Hold Value
It is folly to waste labour about trifles.
MARTIAL

Fools Labour Wasted
Your page stands against you and says to you that you are a thief.
MARTIAL

Page Stand Thief Yourself
Wine and women bring misery.
MARTIAL

Alcohol Misery Wine
No hero to me is the man who, by easy shedding of his blood, purchases fame: my hero is he who, without death, can win praise.
MARTIAL

Blood Death Easy Fame Hero Himself Man Purchase
There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair.
MARTIAL

Hairs Man Myself Pretend
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.
MARTIAL

Enjoyment Health Mistake Thinking
Givers of great dinners know few enemies.
MARTIAL

Enemy Food Greatness
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.
MARTIAL

Believe Day Man Myself Wisdom
Whoever is not too wise is wise.
MARTIAL

One Liner Wisdom
The flaw which is hidden is deemed greater than it is.
MARTIAL

Flaw Greatness Hide
Joys do not stay, but take wing and fly away.
MARTIAL

Fly Happiness Wings

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

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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

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