He who studies to imitate the poet Pindar, O Julius, relies on artificial wings fastened on with wax, and is sure to give his name to a glassy sea.

We are just statistics, born to consume resources.

I abhor the profane rabble and keep them at a distance.

He has hay upon his horn. [He is a mischievous person.]

No poems can please long or live that are written by water drinkers.

While fools shun one set of faults they run into the opposite one.

Does he council you better who bids you, Money, by right means, if you can: but by any means, make money ?