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To-morrow I will live, the fool does say To-day itself's too late, the wise lived yesterday.

Martial

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Martial
Doe
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Yesterday
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You're obstinate, pliant, merry, morose, all at once. For me there's no living with you, or without you.
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Be not too thick with anybody your joys will be fewer, and so will pains.
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For life is only life when blessed with health.
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It is easy in adversity to despise death he has real fortitude who dares to live and be wretched.
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Hidden evils are most dreaded.
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Can the fish love the fisherman? [Lat., Piscatorem piscis amare potest?]
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You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.
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Remember, cobbler, to keep to your leather. [Lat., Memento, in pellicula, cerdo, tenere tuo.]
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I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.
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A good man doubles the length of his existence to have lived so as to look back with pleasure on our past existence is to live twice.
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A novice always behaves with propriety.
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I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why I can only say this, I do not love thee.
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Who gives to friends so much from Fate secures, That is the only wealth for ever yours. [Lat., Extra fortunam est, quidquid donatur amicis Quas dederis, selas semper habebis opes.]
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You crystal break, for fear of breaking it: Careless and careful hands like faults commit.
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Man loves malice, but not against one-eyed men nor the unfortunate, but against the fortunate and proud.
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He writes nothing whose writings are not read.
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Life is not living, but living in health.
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I commend you, Postumus, for kissing me with only half your lip you may, however, if you please, withhold even the half of this half. Are you inclined to grant me a boon still greater, and even inexpressible? Keep this whole half entirely to yourself, Postumus.
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The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.
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It is feeling and force of imagination that make us eloquent.
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