There is no glory in outstripping donkeys.

You give me nothing during your life, but you promise to provide for me at your death. If you are not a fool, you know what I wish for!

Red-haired, black-lipped, club-footed, and blink-eyed; if you're a good man, you're a wonder!

You praise, in three hundred verses, Sabellus, the baths of Ponticus, who gives such excellent dinners. You wish to dine, Sabellus, not to bathe.

You complain, friend Swift, of the length of my epigrams, but you yourself write nothing. Yours are shorter.

If pale beans bubble for you in a red earthenware pot, you can often decline the dinners of sumptuous hosts.

Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.