I hate and love. You ask, perhaps, how can that be? I know not, but I feel the agony.

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

I can imagine no greater misfortune for a cultured people than to see in the hands of the rulers not only the civil, but also the religious power.

Ah, what is more blessed than to put cares away, when the mind lays by its burden, and tired with labor of far travel we have come to our own home and rest on the couch we longed for? This it is which alone is worth all these toils.

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

The vows that woman makes to her fond lover are only fit to be written on air or on the swiftly passing stream.

What women say to lovers, you'll agree, One writes on running water or on air.