All your female friends are either old or ugly; nay, more ugly than old women usually are. These you lead about in your train, and drag with you to feasts, porticos and theaters. Thus, Fabulla, you seem handsome, thus you seem young.

It is feeling and force of imagination that make us eloquent.

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

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

You may envy every one, but no one envies you.

The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved in amber, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.

Work divided is in that manner shortened.