Catullus Quotes

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

Away with you, water, destruction of wine!

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

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

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.

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

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.

Ave Atque Vale
Hail and farewell

But you shall not escape my iambics.

We should live, my Lesbia, and love
And value all the talk of stricter
Old men at a single penny.
Suns can set and rise again;
For us, once our brief light has set,
There's 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 we've made many thousands,
We'll muddle them so as not to know
Or lest some villain overlook us
Knowing the total of our kisses.
(Translated by Guy Lee)

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.]

I hate & love. And if you should ask how I do both,
I couldn't say; but I feel it , and it shivers me.

I hate and I love. Why do I do this, you may ask? I do not know, but I feel it, and I am tortured.

Through many countries and over many seas
I have come, Brother, to these melancholy rites,
to show this final honour to the dead,
and speak (to what purpose?) to your silent ashes,
since now fate takes you, even you, from me.
Oh, Brother, ripped away from me so cruelly,
now at least take these last offerings, blessed
by the tradition of our parents, gifts to the dead.
Accept, by custom, what a brother's tears drown,
and, for eternity, Brother, 'Hail and Farewell'.

Odi et amo; quare fortasse requiris, nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
(my translation: I hate and I love, you ask why I do this, I do not know, but I feel and I am tormented)

It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.

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

Let us live and love, nor give a damn what sour old men say.
The sun that sets may rise again, but when our light has sunk into the earth it is gone forever.

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.

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.

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

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 have lost you, my brother
And your death has ended
The spring season
Of my happiness,
our house is buried with you
And buried the laughter that you taught me.
There are no thoughts of love nor of poems
In my head
Since you died.

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

We see not our own backs.

I hate and I love
Why do I, you ask ?
I don't know, but it's happening
and it hurts

Mulier cupido quod dicit amanti, in vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua ((What woman says to fond lover should be written on air or the swift water)

In perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale. (Forever and ever, brother, hail and farewell.)