Catullus Quotes & Sayings

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 ... — Catullus

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

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'. — Catullus

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

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

We see not our own backs. — Catullus

It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion. — Catullus

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

Some lioness whelped you on a mountain rock
In Libya, or else you're Scylla's child
Whose womb's all barking dogs, for only a wild
Beast with the nature of a beast could mock
A desperate man making a last appeal
Down on his knees. Bitch heart too hard to feel! — Catullus

I hate and I love. Wherefore do I so, peradventure thou askest. I know not, but I feel it to be thus and I suffer. — Catullus

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.] — Catullus

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) — Catullus

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. — Catullus

Hail and farewell — Catullus

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.] — Catullus

Nothing is more silly than silly laughter. — Catullus

Ave Atque Vale
Hail and farewell — Catullus

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. — Catullus

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

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

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

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. — Catullus

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. — Catullus

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

You think I'm a sissy?
I will sodomize you and face-fuck you. — Catullus

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. — Catullus

Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill-bred it is. — Catullus

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. — Catullus

I hate and love. And why, perhaps you'll ask.
I don't know: but I feel, and I'm tormented. — Catullus

Id Faciam
What I hate I love. Ask the crucified hand that holds
the nail that now is driven into itself, why. — Catullus

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

Journeying over many seas & through many countries
I came dear brother to this pitiful leave-taking
The last gestures by your graveside
The futility of words over your quiet ashes.
Life cleft us from each other
Pointlessly depriving brother of brother
Accept then, our parents' custom
These offerings, this leave-taking
Echoing forever, brother, through a brother's tears — Catullus

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. — Catullus

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

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

But you shall not escape my iambics. — Catullus

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

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. — Catullus

Come boy, and pour for me a cup
Of old Falernian. Fill it up
With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear;
Our host decrees no water here.
Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew,
The sluggish thin their blood with dew.
For such pale stuff we have no use;
For us the purple grape's rich juice.
Begone, ye chilling water sprite;
Here burning Bacchus rules tonight! — Catullus

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

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

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

Away with you, water, destruction of wine! — Catullus

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

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

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. — Catullus

To whom shall I offer this book, young and sprightly,
Neat, polished, wide-margined, and finished politely?
To you, my Cornelius, whose learning pedantic,
Has dared to set forth in three volumes gigantic
The history of ages - ye gods, what a labor!
And still to enjoy the small wit of a neighbor.
A man who can be light and learned at once, sir,
By life's subtle logic is far from a dunce, sir.
So take my small book - if it meet with your favor.
The passing of years cannot dull its sweet savor. — Catullus

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) — Catullus

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