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Every one has his faults: but we do not see the wallet on our own backs.

Catullus

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Catullus
Poet
Writer
Gaius Valerius Catullus
Backs
Faults
Every
Wallet
Wallets

More quotes by Catullus

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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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Godlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which (softly) tears me to tatters: nothing is left of me, each time I see her.
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I hate and I love. Perchance you ask why I do that. I know not, but I feel that I do and I am tortured. [Lat., Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.]
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I hate and love. You ask, perhaps, how can that be? I know not, but I feel the agony.
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My lady's sparrow is dead, the sparrow which was my lady's delight
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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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Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love. Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus
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Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill bred it is!
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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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It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.
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Nothing is more silly than silly laughter.
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There is nothing more silly than a silly laugh.
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Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then a thousand more.
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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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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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It is difficult to suddenly give up a long love. Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem
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To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?
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Brother, hello and good-bye. Frater, ave atque vale
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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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