Catullus quotes:

My mind's sunk so low, Claudia, because of you, wrecked itself on your account so bad already, that I couldn't like you if you were the best of women, -or stop loving you, no matter what you do.

Now Spring restores the balmy heat, now Zephyr's sweet breezes calm the rage of the equinoctial sky.

Who now travels that dark path from whose bourne they say no one returns. [Lat., Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum Illue unde negant redire quemquam.]

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

Brother, hello and good-bye. Frater, ave atque vale

I hate and I love. Perchance you ask why I do that. I know not, but I feel that I do and I am tortured. [Lat., Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.]

It is difficult to suddenly give up a long love. Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem

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

What woman says to fond lover should be written on air or the swift water. [Lat., Mulier cupido quod dicit amanti, In vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua.]

So a maiden, while she remains untouched, remains dear to her own; but when she has lost her chaste flower with sullied body, she remains neither lovely to boys nor dear to girls.

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.

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

Ah, what is more blessed than to put cares away, when the mind lays by its burden, and tired with labor of far travel we have come to our own home and rest on the couch we longed for? This it is which alone is worth all these toils.

Godlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which (softly) tears me to tatters: nothing is left of me, each time I see her...

Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill bred it is!

What a woman says to an eager lover, write it on running water, write it on air.

Away with you, water, destruction of wine!

My lady's sparrow is dead, the sparrow which was my lady's delight

Ille mi par esse deo videturille, si fas est, superare divos,qui sedens adversus identitem tespectat et auditdulce ridentem, misero quod omniseripit sensus mihi: nam simul te,Lesbia, aspexi, nihil est super milingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artusflamma demanat, sonitu suoptetintinant aures gemina, tegunturlumina nocte.otium, Catulle, tibi molestum est;otio exsultas nimiumque gestis;otium et reges prius et beatasperdidit urbes.

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.

But you shall not escape my iambics.

It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.

Nothing is more silly than silly laughter.

I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I am torn in two.

Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all.

Every one has his faults: but we do not see the wallet on our own backs.

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love. Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus

Give up wanting to deserve any thanks from anyone, or thinking anybody can be grateful.

I hate and love. You ask, perhaps, how can that be? I know not, but I feel the agony.

There is nothing more foolish than a foolish laugh. Risu inepto res ineptior nulla est

I hate and I love, and who can tell me why?

To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?

There is nothing more silly than a silly laugh.

What women say to lovers, you'll agree, One writes on running water or on air.

I write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.

The confounding of all right and wrong, in wild fury, has averted from us the gracious favor of the gods.

Stop wishing to merit anyone's gratitude or thinking that anyone can become grateful.

The vows that woman makes to her fond lover are only fit to be written on air or on the swiftly passing stream.

We see not our own backs.