To have nothing is not poverty.
MARTIALYou puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.
More Martial Quotes
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I seem to you cruel and too much addicted to gluttony, when I beat my cook for sending up a bad dinner. If that appears to you too trifling a cause, say for what cause you would have a cook flogged.
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Conceal a flaw, and the world will imagine the worst.
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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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Life’s not just about being alive, but being well.
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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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Our days pass by, and are scored against us.
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Gifts are like hooks.
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There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair.
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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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Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.
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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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Some are good, some are middling, the most are bad.
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He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whose book full of them?
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You should not fear, nor yet should you wish for your last day.
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Rarity gives a charm; so early fruits and winter roses are the most prized; and coyness sets off an extravagant mistress, while the door always open tempts no suitor.
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Why do I not kiss you, Philaenis? you are bald. Why do I not kiss you, Philaenis? you are carrotty. Why do I not kiss you, Philaenis? you are one-eyed. He who kisses you, Philaenis, sins against nature.
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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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It is to live twice when we can enjoy the recollections of our former life.
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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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I’m what I seem; not any dyer gave, But nature dyed this colour that I have.
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What quick wit is found in sudden straits!
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I have not hated the man, but his faults.
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There is nothing more revolting than an old busybody.
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I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name.
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From no place can you exclude the fates.
MARTIAL