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

You importune me, Tucca, to present you with my books. I shall not do so; for you want to sell, not to read, them.

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

A vagrant is everywhere at home.

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

That which prevents disagreeable flies from feeding on your repast, was once the proud tail of a splendid bird.

Nothing is more ill-timed than an ill-timed laugh.