“I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth. ”

“I got nervous at bulls and eagles,Trying to figure what shape Zeus might take for sexWhen it could be your turn next. But now I don't care any longer,I've come to my senses, your profile leaves me cold.Why am I different? you ask. I'll tell you. Because you keep naggingFor presents. That's what turns me off.”

“For such a career I lacked both endurance and inclination:the stress of ambition left me cold,while the Muse, the creative spirit, was forever urging on methat haven of leisure to which I'd always leaned.The poets of those days I cultivated and cherished:for me, bards were so many gods.”

“I am the poet of the poor, because I was poor when I loved; since I could not give gifts, I gave words.”

“The god of Delos, proud in victory,Saw Cupid draw his bow's taut arc, and said:'Mischievous boy, what are a brave man's armsTo you? That gear becomes my shoulders best.My aim is sure; I wound my enemies,I wound wild beasts; my countless arrows slewBut now the bloated Python, whose vast coilsAcross so many acres spread their blight.You and your loves! You have your torch to light them!Let that content you; never claim my fame!'And Venus' son replied: 'Your bow, Apollo,May vanquish all, but mine shall vanquish you.As every creature yields to power divine,So likewise shall your glory yield to mine.”

“Let others praise ancient times; I am glad I was born in these.”

“Thus I am not able to exist either with you or without you; and I seem not to know my own wishes.”