I am a shell-fish just come from being saturated with the waters of the Lucrine lake, near Baiae; but now I luxuriously thrust for noble pickle.
What quick wit is found in sudden straits!
If you have any shame, forbear to pluck the beard of a dead lion.
Genuine is the sorrow endured without anyone else knowing about it.
I do not hate the man, but his vices.
Our days pass by, and are scored against us.