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.

I hate and I love, and who can tell me why?

It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.

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.

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

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then a thousand more.

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