Quotes by Catullus

“Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then a thousand more.”

“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”

“What a woman says to her avid lover should be written in wind and running water.”

“It is difficult suddenly to put aside a long-standing love; it is difficult, but somehow you must do it.”

“My minds sunk so low, Claudia, because of you, wrecked itself on your account so bad already, that I couldnt like you if you were the best of women, - or stop loving you, no matter what you do.”

“For the godly poet must be chaste himself, but there is no need for his verses to be so.”

“Most wretched men are cradled to poetry by wrong: they learn in suffering what they teach in song”

“Now he is treading that dark road to the place from which they say no one has ever returned.”

“Rise up, lads, the evening is coming. The evening star is just raising his long-awaited light in heaven.”

Come boy, and pour for me a cupOf old Falernian. Fill it upWith wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear;Our host decrees no water here.Let dullards drink the Nymphs pale brew,The sluggish thin their blood with dew.For such pale stuff we have no use;For us the purple grapes rich juice.Begone, ye chilling water sprite;Here burning Bacchus rules tonight!

To whom shall I offer this book, young and sprightly,Neat, polished, wide-margined, and finished politely?To you, my Cornelius, whose learning pedantic,Has dared to set forth in three volumes giganticThe history of ages—ye gods, what a labor!—And still to enjoy the small wit of a neighbor.A man who can be light and learned at once, sir,By lifes subtle logic is far from a dunce, sir.So take my small book—if it meet with your favor.The passing of years cannot dull its sweet savor.

Nothing is left of meEach time I see her

What a woman tells her lover in desireshould be written out on air & running water.

I have lost you, my brotherAnd your death has ended The spring seasonOf my happiness, our house is buried with youAnd buried the laughter that you taught me.There are no thoughts of love nor of poemsIn my head Since you died.

Journeying over many seas & through many countries I came dear brother to this pitiful leave-taking The last gestures by your gravesideThe futility of words over your quiet ashes.Life cleft us from each other Pointlessly depriving brother of brotherAccept then, our parents customThese offerings, this leave-takingEchoing forever, brother, through a brothers tears

But your own tears blind you to mine.I am not neglectful of friendship,but we two squat in the same coracle,we are both swamped by the same stormy waters,I have not the gifts of a happy man. . . Often enough.

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio. des fieri sentio et excrucior.I hate and I love. You may ask, why I do this. I do not know. But I sense that I do and it pains me.

I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask.I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.

We should live, my Lesbia, and loveAnd value all the talk of stricterOld men at a single penny.Suns can set and rise again;For us, once our brief light has set,Theres one unending night for sleeping.Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,Then another thousand, then a second hundred,Then still another thousand, then a hundred;Then, when weve made many thousands,Well muddle them so as not to knowOr lest some villain overlook usKnowing the total of our kisses.(Translated by Guy Lee)

Nothing is more silly than silly laughter.