Skip to content

Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign,
Can match the fierce, the unutterable pain
He feels, who night and day, devoid of rest,
Carries his own accuser in his breast.

Another quote →

More quotes by Juvenal

Every man's credit is proportioned to the money which he has in his chest.

The love of money grows as the money itself grows.

I only feel, but want the power to paint.

What is there that you enter upon so favorably as not to repent of the undertaking and the accomplishment of your wish?

Their conversation was brief, and their desire was to be silent.

All Juvenal quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Juvenal (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.