For the godly poet must be chaste himself, but there is no need for his verses to be so.

Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill bred it is!

I write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.

There is nothing more foolish than a foolish laugh. Risu inepto res ineptior nulla est

To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?

But you shall not escape my iambics.

Away with you, water, destruction of wine!