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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.]

Catullus

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Catullus
Poet
Writer
Gaius Valerius Catullus
Hatred
Asks
Hate
Feel
Feels
Love
Perchance
Tortured

More quotes by Catullus

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To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?
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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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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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It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.
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There is nothing more silly than a silly laugh.
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We see not our own backs.
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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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Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then a thousand more.
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It is difficult to suddenly give up a long love. Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem
Catullus
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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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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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For the godly poet must be chaste himself, but there is no need for his verses to be so.
Catullus
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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.]
Catullus
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Nothing is more silly than silly laughter.
Catullus
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There is nothing more foolish than a foolish laugh. Risu inepto res ineptior nulla est
Catullus
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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.]
Catullus
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Away with you, water, destruction of wine!
Catullus
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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.
Catullus
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Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love. Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus
Catullus
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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.
Catullus