Marcus Valerius Martial

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis read more

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
"To-morrow I will live," the fool does say:
To-day itself's too late;--the wise lived yesterday.

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.

You give me back, Phoebus, my bond for four hundred thousand
sesterces; lend me rather a hundred thousand more. read more

You give me back, Phoebus, my bond for four hundred thousand
sesterces; lend me rather a hundred thousand more. Seek some one
else to whom you may vaunt your empty present: what I cannot pay
you, Phoebus, is my own.

A fisherman's walk: three steps and overboard.

A fisherman's walk: three steps and overboard.

Whoever makes great presents, expects great presents in return.
[Lat., Quisquis magna dedit, voluit sibi magna remitti.]

Whoever makes great presents, expects great presents in return.
[Lat., Quisquis magna dedit, voluit sibi magna remitti.]