I have granted you much that you asked: and yet you never cease to ask of me. He who refuses nothing, Atticilla, will soon have nothing to refuse.

No hero to me is the man who, by easy shedding of his blood, purchases fame: my hero is he who, without death, can win praise.

When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.

While you remain at home your hair is at the hairdresser's; you take out your teeth at night and sleep tucked away in a hundred cosmetics boxes - even your face does not sleep with you.

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

You are sad in the midst of every blessing. Take care that Fortune does not observe--or she will call you ungrateful.

Your page stands against you and says to you that you are a thief.