Explore popular quotes and sayings by a Roman poet Martial.
Last updated on November 21, 2024.
Marcus Valerius Martialis was a Roman poet from Hispania best known for his twelve books of Epigrams, published in Rome between AD 86 and 103, during the reigns of the emperors Domitian, Nerva and Trajan. In these short, witty poems he cheerfully satirises city life and the scandalous activities of his acquaintances, and romanticises his provincial upbringing. He wrote a total of 1,561 epigrams, of which 1,235 are in elegiac couplets.
Why do strong arms fatigue themselves with frivolous dumbbells? To dig a vineyard is worthier exercise for men.
Generosity during life is a very different thing from generosity in the hour of death; one proceeds from genuine liberality, and benevolence; the other from pride or fear, or from the fact that you cannot take your money with you to the other world.
Genuine is the sorrow endured without anyone else knowing about it.
To the ashes of the dead glory comes too late.
To-morrow I will live, the fool does say;
To-day itself's too late, the wise lived yesterday.
Givers of great dinners know few enemies.
Can the fish love the fisherman?
[Lat., Piscatorem piscis amare potest?]
Spare the person but lash the vice.
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.
What's a wretched man? A man whom no man pleases.
Nothing is more ill-timed than an ill-timed laugh.
Whoever makes great presents, expects great presents in return.
You admire, Vacerra, only the poets of old and praise only those who are dead. Pardon me, I beseech you, Vacerra, if I think death too high a price to pay for your praise.
Whoever is not too wise is wise.
[Lat., Quisquis plus justo non sapit, ille sapit.]
Do you ask what sort of a maid I desire or dislike, Flaccus? I dislike one too easy and one too coy. The just mean, which lies between the two extremes, is what I approve; I like neither that which tortures nor that which cloys.
Be merry if you are wise.
In adversity it is easy to despise life; he is truly brave who can endure a writeched life
From no place can you exclude the fates.
[Lat., Nullo fata loco possis excludere.]
Of no day can the retrospect cause pain to a good man.
Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that's how a book of poems is made, my Friend.
My poems are naughty, but my life is pure.
You may envy every one, but no one envies you.
Believing hear, what you deserve to hear:
Your birthday as my own to me is dear...
But yours gives most; for mine did only lend
Me to the world; yours gave to me a friend.
He who weighs his burdens, can bear them.
Neither fear your death's day nor long for it.
Wine and women bring misery.
Gifts are like hooks.
Virtue extends our days: he lives two lives who relives his past with pleasure.
You ask what a nice girl will do? She won't give an inch, but she won't say no.
Birdes of a feather will flocke togither.
I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.
It is not he who forms idols in gold or marble that makes them gods, but he who kneels before them.
This I ask, is it not madness to kill thyself in order to escape death?
[Lat., Hic rogo non furor est ne moriare mori?]
I would not miss your face, your neck, your hands, your limbs, your bosom and certain other of your charms. Indeed, not to become boring by naming them all, I could do without you, Chloe, altogether.
A vagrant is everywhere at home.
You importune me, Tucca, to present you with my books. I shall not do so; for you want to sell, not to read, them.
To have nothing is not poverty.
[Lat., Non est paupertas, Nestor, habere nihil.]
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
There is no glory in otustripping donkeys.
Gifts are like fish-hooks; for who is not aware that the greedy char is deceived by the fly which he swallows?
There is no glory in outstripping donkeys.
I have not hated the man, but his faults.
Those they praise, but they read the others.
Tomorrow's life is too late. Live today.
Every epigram should resemble a bee; it should have sting, honey, and brevity.
It is feeling and force of imagination that make us eloquent.
If you are poor now, Aemilianus, you will always be poor. Riches are now given to none but the rich.
The virtuous man is never a novice in worldly things.
When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.
It is as good as second life to be able to look back upon our past life with pleasure
You are so pure in mind and heart,
In aspect, too, so mild,
I wonder that you ever could
Implant your wife with child.
Live thy life as it were spoil and pluck the joys that fly.
If fame comes after death, I'm in no hurry for it.
[Lat., Si post fata venit gloria non propero.]
He writes nothing whose writings are not read.
A fisherman's walk: three steps and overboard.
Life is not merely to be alive, but to be well.
The face that cannot smile is never fair.
Joys do not stay, but take wing and fly away.
The African lions rush to attack bulls; they do not attack butterflies.
[Lat., In tauros Libyci ruunt leones;
Non sunt papilionibus molesti.]