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I do not like the man who squanders life for fame give me the man who living makes a name. [Lat., Nolo virum facili redimit qui sanquine famam Hunc volo laudari qui sine morte potest.]
Martial
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More quotes by Martial
He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whose book full of them?
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They let out on hire their passions and eloquence. [Referring to lawyers.]
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Be merry if you are wise.
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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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No hero to me is the man who, by easy shedding of his blood, purchases fame: my hero is he who, without death, can win praise.
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He truly sorrows who sorrows unseen.
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He who prefers to give Linus the half of what he wishes to borrow, rather than to lend him the whole, prefers to lose only the half.
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The flaw which is hidden is deemed greater than it is.
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Your page stands against you and says to you that you are a thief.
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Genuine is the sorrow endured without anyone else knowing about it.
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It is feeling and force of imagination that make us eloquent.
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You give me nothing during your life, but you promise to provide for me at your death. If you are not a fool, you know what I wish for!
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While an ant was wandering under the shade of the tree of Phaeton, a drop of amber enveloped the tiny insect thus she, who in life was disregarded, became precious by death.
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Can the fish love the fisherman? [Lat., Piscatorem piscis amare potest?]
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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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The present joys of life we doubly taste, By looking back with pleasure to the past.
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A good man enlarges the term of his own existence.
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The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved in amber, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.
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You complain, friend Swift, of the length of my epigrams, but you yourself write nothing. Yours are shorter.
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I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.
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