My age, my inclinations, are no longer what they were.
Not treasured wealth, nor the consul's lictor, can dispel the mind's bitter conflicts and the cares that flit, like bats, about your fretted roofs.
Usually the modest person passes for someone reserved, the silent for a sullen person
Whither, O god of wine, art thou hurrying me, whilst under thy all-powerful influence?
It's a good thing to be foolishly gay once in a while.
In avoiding one evil we fall into another, if we use not discretion.