To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?
Away with you, water, destruction of wine!
Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all.
I hate and love. You ask, perhaps, how can that be? I know not, but I feel the agony.
So a maiden, whilst she remains untouched, so long is she dear to her own; when she has lost her chaste flower with sullied body, she remains neither lovely to boys nor dear to girls.
There is nothing more foolish than a foolish laugh. Risu inepto res ineptior nulla est