It is folly to waste labour about trifles.

You admire, Vacerra, only the poets of old and praise only those who are dead. Pardon me, I beseech you, Vacerra, if I think death too high a price to pay for your praise.

No man is quick enough to enjoy life.

If pale beans bubble for you in a red earthenware pot, you can often decline the dinners of sumptuous hosts.

While you remain at home your hair is at the hairdresser's; you take out your teeth at night and sleep tucked away in a hundred cosmetics boxes - even your face does not sleep with you.

Be cheerful, if you are wise.

I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.