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Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then a thousand more.

Catullus

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Catullus
Poet
Writer
Gaius Valerius Catullus
Valentine
Kissing
Hundred
Thousand
Give
Giving
Kisses

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So a maiden, whilst she remains untouched, so long is she dear to her own when she has lost her chaste flower with sullied body, she remains neither lovely to boys nor dear to girls.
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My lady's sparrow is dead, the sparrow which was my lady's delight
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What woman says to fond lover should be written on air or the swift water. [Lat., Mulier cupido quod dicit amanti, In vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua.]
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We see not our own backs.
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I can imagine no greater misfortune for a cultured people than to see in the hands of the rulers not only the civil, but also the religious power.
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Who now travels that dark path from whose bourne they say no one returns. [Lat., Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum Illue unde negant redire quemquam.]
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There is nothing more silly than a silly laugh.
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I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask. I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.
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For the godly poet must be chaste himself, but there is no need for his verses to be so.
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My mind's sunk so low, Claudia, because of you, wrecked itself on your account so bad already, that I couldn't like you if you were the best of women, -or stop loving you, no matter what you do.
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Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill bred it is!
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What a woman says to an eager lover, write it on running water, write it on air.
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Nothing is more silly than silly laughter.
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The confounding of all right and wrong, in wild fury, has averted from us the gracious favor of the gods.
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To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?
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Away with you, water, destruction of wine!
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Brother, hello and good-bye. Frater, ave atque vale
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Every one has his faults: but we do not see the wallet on our own backs.
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I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I am torn in two.
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Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love. Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus
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