Those they praise, but they read the others.
No man is quick enough to enjoy life.
The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.
If you want him to mourn, you had best leave him nothing.
He writes nothing whose writings are not read.
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.