I would rather smell of nothing than of perfume.
A slave, branded on the forehead by his master, saved him when proscribed. Thus, while the life of the master was preserved, his infamy was perpetuated.
Why do you maim your slave, Ponticus, by cutting out his tongue? Don’t you know that the public says what he cannot?
In all my writings my aim has been to spare sinners and assail sin.
Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that’s how a book of poems is made, my friend.
When a poet presents you with blank leaves you should consider it no small present.
For all their compliments do verses pay? They mayn’t, yet these same poems make me gay.
Lo! I the man for trifles unsurpassed: You mayn’t admire me but I hold you fast. Great themes are for great bards: enough to see – You oft rereading my light poetry!
I think he needs our pity who likes none.
Why, Thais, do you constantly call me old? No one, Thais, is too old for some things.