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

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

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

No more thy pains for others' welfare spend, Nor think by service to attach a friend: All are ungrateful - love goes slighted still - Nor merely so, but is repaid by ill; Witness myself, house bitterest foe is he, Who never had a friend on earth bu

Let us live my Lesbia, and love, and value at one farthing all the talk of crabbed old men

I want more transparency. It's like a deep, dark hole and no one know what's going on.