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?
See, how the liver is swollen larger than a fat goose! In amazement you will exclaim: Where could this possibly grow?
Be content to be what you are, and prefer nothing to it, and do not fear or wish for your last day.
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.
Every bird that upwards swings Bears the Cross upon its wings.
Glory comes too late when we are nought but ashes.
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.
No man is quick enough to enjoy life.
Red-haired, black-lipped, club-footed, and blink-eyed; if you're a good man, you're a wonder!
I know all that better than my own name.
The present joys of life we doubly taste, By looking back with pleasure to the past.
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.
You give me nothing during your life, but you promise to provide for me at your death. If you are not a fool, you know what I wish for!
Non est, crede mihi, sapientis dicere 'Vivam': Sera nimis vita est crastina: vive hodie. Believe me, wise men don't say 'I shall live to do that', tomorrow's life is too late; live today. Variant translation: Tomorrow will I live, the fool does say; Today itself's too late; the wise lived yesterday.
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.
Our days pass by, and are scored against us.
If your slave commits a fault, do not smash his teeth with your fists; give him some of the (hard) biscuit which famous Rhodes has sent you.
The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved in amber, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.
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.
The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.
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.
Your seventh wife, Phileros, is now being buried in your field. No man's field brings him greater profit than yours, Phileros.
A good man enlarges the term of his own existence.
Some things are good, some middling, more bad.
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