“My soul would sing of metamorphoses.But since, o gods, you were the source of thesebodies becoming other bodies, breatheyour breath into my book of changes: maythe song I sing be seamless as its wayweaves from the world's beginning to our day.”

“My purpose is to tell of bodies that have been changed into shapes of different kinds.”

“O gods, \ If any gods will listen, I deserve \ Punishment surely, I do not refuse it, \ But lest, in living, I offend the living, Offend the dead in death, drive me away \ From either realm, change me somehow, refuse me \ Both life and death! -- Myrrha, before being transformed into a tree”

“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.”

“Venus of Eryx, from her mountain throne,Saw Hades and clasped her swift-winged son, and said:'Cupid, my child, my warrior, my power,Take those sure shafts with which you conquer all,And shoot your speedy arrows to the heartOf the great god to whom the last lot fellWhen the three realms were drawn. Your masterySubdues the gods of heaven and even Jove,Subdues the ocean's deities and him,Even him, who rules the ocean's deities.Why should Hell lag behind? Why not there tooExtend your mother's empire and your own....?Then Cupid, guided by his mother, openedHis quiver of all his thousand arrowsSelected one, the sharpest and the surest,The arrow most obedient to the bow,And bent the pliant horn against his kneeAnd shot the barbed shaft deep in Pluto's heart.”

“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.”

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