Everything in Rome has its price.

Honesty is praised and left in the cold.

Refrain from doing ill; for one all powerful reason, lest our children should copy our misdeeds; we are all too prone to imitate whatever is base and depraved.

Lost money is bewailed with deeper sighs Than friends, or kindred, and with louder cries.

The brief span of our poor unhappy life to its final hour Is hastening on; and while we drink and call for gay wreaths, Perfumes, and young girls, old age creeps upon us, unperceived.

It is sheer madness to live in want in order to be wealthy when you die.

The gods alone know, what kind of wife a man will have.