You importune me, Tucca, to present you with my books. I shall not do so; for you want to sell, not to read, them.
Your seventh wife, Phileros, is now being buried in your field. No man's field brings him greater profit than yours, Phileros.
You should not fear, nor yet should you wish for your last day.
You crystal break, for fear of breaking it: Careless and careful hands like faults commit.
The face that cannot smile is never fair.
The shameless Chloe placed on the tombs of her seven husbands the inscription, "The work of Chloe." How could she have expressed herself more plainly?