Every bird that upwards swings Bears the Cross upon its wings.

The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.

The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.

To be able to enjoy one's past life is to live twice.

There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair.

He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whose book full of them?

If I remember right, Aelia, you had four teeth; a cough displaced two, another two more. You can now cough without anxiety all the day long. A third cough can find nothing to do in your mouth.