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.

It is not, believe me, the act of a wise man to say, "I will live." To-morrow's life is too late; live to-day.

You praise, in three hundred verses, Sabellus, the baths of Ponticus, who gives such excellent dinners. You wish to dine, Sabellus, not to bathe.

Tomorrow's life is too late. Live today.

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

Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that's how a book of poems is made, my Friend.

He who thinks that the lives of Priam and of Nestor were long is much deceived and mistaken. Life consists not in living, but in enjoying health.