You admire, Vacerra, only the poets of old and praise only those who are dead. Pardon me, I beseech you, Vacerra, if I think death too high a price to pay for your praise.

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

He truly sorrows who sorrows unseen.

Service cannot be expected from a friend in service; let him be a freeman who wishes to be my master.

Too late is tomorrow's life; live for today.

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

While an ant was wandering under the shade of the tree of Phaeton, a drop of amber enveloped the tiny insect; thus she, who in life was disregarded, became precious by death.