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.

Joys do not stay, but take wing and fly away.

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?

Make it a point not to be over-fascinating.

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.

There is nothing more revolting than an old busybody.

I wont let a wife lead me to the altar. [I will not have a wife that shall be my master.]