You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.
Martial (c.40 - c.102)
Contributed by: Zaady
Life is not living, but living in health.
A man who lives everywhere lives nowhere.
You're obstinate, pliant, merry, morose, all at once. For me there's no living with you, or without you.
My poems are naughty, but my life is pure.
You ask what a nice girl will do? She won't give an inch, but she won't say no.
You'll get no laurel crown for outrunning a burrow.
If pale beans bubble for you in a red earthenware pot You can oft decline the dinners of sumptuous hosts.
The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved in amber, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.
Stop abusing my verses, or publish some of your own.
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