Too late is tomorrow's life; live for today.

There is no living with thee, nor without thee.

Joys do not stay, but take wing and fly away.

Rarity gives a charm; so early fruits and winter roses are the most prized; and coyness sets off an extravagant mistress, while the door always open tempts no suitor.

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.

While you cannot resolve what you are, at last you may be nothing.

Every epigram should resemble a bee; it should have sting, honey, and brevity.