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

Tomorrow's life is too late. Live today.

If you have any shame, forbear to pluck the beard of a dead lion.

I know all that better than my own name.

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?

The face that cannot smile is never fair.

You'll get no laurel crown for outrunning a burrow.