So new, so smooth, my dainty book,
A gift for whom? Cornelius, look,
‘Tis yours: for you in early days
Were ever wont my rhymes to praise.[Cui dono lepidum novum libellum
arido modo pumice expolitum?
Corneli, tibi; namque tu solebas
meas esse aliquid putare nugas.]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 1 “To Cornelius Nepos,” ll. 1-4 [tr. MacNaghten (1925)]
(Source)
Dedication of the collection (though the canonical collection of Catullus's poems is dubious in its provenance).
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
With pumice dry just polish'd fine,
To whom present this book of mine;
This little volume smart, and new? --
Cornelius, I will give it you:
For then you oft were wont to say
Some trifling merit had my lay.
[tr. Nott (1795)]
My little volume is complete,
With all the care and polish neat
That makes it fair to see:
To whom shall I then, to whose praise,
Inscribe my lively, graceful lays?
Cornelius, friend, to thee.
[tr. Lamb (1821)]
My little volume is complete,
And with the pumice made as neat
As tome need wish to be;
And now what patron shall I choose
For thee gay sallies of my muse?
Cornelius, whom but thee?
For though they are but trifles, thou
Some value didst to them allow.
[tr. T. Martin (1861), st. 1-2]
To what dear friend, say, shall I dedicate
My smart new book, just trimm'd with pumice dry?
To thee, Cornelius -- for, in years gone by,
Thou was accustom'd my light lays to rate
As something more than trifles.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]
My little book, that's neat and new,
Fresh polished with dry pumice stone,
To whom, Cornelius, but to you,
Shall this be sent, for you alone --
(Who used to praise my lines, my own) ....
[tr. Lang (1888)]
To thee (Cornelius!); for wast ever fain
To deem my trifles somewhat boon contain.
[tr. Burton (1893)]
To whom inscribe my charming new book -- just out and with ashen pumice polished? Cornelius, to you! for you used to deem my triflings of account.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]
To whom am I to present my pretty new book, freshly smoothed off with dry pumice stone? To you, Cornelius: for you used to think that my trifles were worth something, long ago.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]
To whom shall I offer this book, young and sprightly,
Neat, polished, wide-margined, and finished politely?
To you, my Cornelius ....
[tr. Stewart (1915)]
To whom shall I offer my new little book
Looking as polished as parchment can look?
Cornelius, to thee, for 'twa thou who didst prize
My trifles as something e'en then in thine eyes.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923)]
To whom this dainty booklet polished new
With pumice stone? Cornelius, to you.
For you were wont my versicles to praise
As things of value in those bygone days.
[tr. Wright (1926), ch. 3]
Who shall receive my new-born book,
my poems, elegant and shy,
neatly dressed and polished?
You, Cornelius,
shall by my single patron,
for, long ago, you praised my slender lines and stanzas.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]
Whom do I give my neat little volume
slicked dry and made fashionable with pumice?
Cornelius, to you: remindful that you
used to dwell on my scantlings as something great.
[tr. Zukofsky (1959)]
To whom will I give this sophisticated,
abrasively accomplished new collection?
To you, Cornelius! You had the habit
of making much of my poetic little.
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]
To whom do I send this fresh little book
of wit, just polished off with dry pumice?
To you, Cornelius: since you were accustomed
to consider my trifles worth something
even then.
[tr. Kline (2001)]
To whom do I dedicate this charming slim volume,
just now polished with dry pumice stone?
For you Cornelius, for you were accustomed to think
that my scribblings were something.
[tr. Ozlem (2003)]
Who's the dedicatee of my new witty
booklet, all fresh-polished with abrasive?
You, Cornelius: for you always used to
feel my trivia possessed some substance.
[tr. Green (2005)]
To whom to give this charming little book
dryly polished with a pumice stone?
To you, Cornelius: you used to think
my trivial little scribbles worth a look.
[Source (2011)]
Who is it I should give my little book to,
So pretty in its pumice-polished covers?
Cornelius, I'll give my book to you:
Because you used to think my nothings somethings.
[tr. Ferry (2012)]
To whom do I give this pleasing new little book,
Just now smoothed with dry pumice?
To you, Cornelius: For you were accustomed
To consider my trifles to be something.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017)]
To whom do I give this elegant new booklet,
polished just now with dry pumice?
To you, Cornelius! Since you always
thought my doggerel was worth something.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]
Quotations about:
gift
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
Can I forget your many favours? Nay.
Why don’t I mention them? Because you do.
If I begin, some one is sure to say
“Your patron told me all he did for you”;
Friend there are tasks cannot be done by two;
Shall this be yours or mine? for I submit
However great a gift, there nothing due
To any giver who shall boast of it.[Quae mihi praestiteris memini semperque tenebo.
Cur igitur taceo, Postume? Tu loqueris.
Incipio quotiens alicui tua dona referre,
Protinus exclamat ‘Dixerat ipse mihi.’
Non belle quaedam faciunt duo: sufficit unus
Huic operi: si vis, ut loquar, ipse tace.
Crede mihi, quamvis ingentia, Postume, dona
Auctoris pereunt garrulitate sui.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 5, epigram 52 (5.52) (AD 90) [tr. Pott & Wright (1921), “Self-Praise”]
(Source)
"To Postumus." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Thy gifts to me I thinke of, and still shall.
Why then do I not speake of them at all?
Thou dost. Where ere I tell thy charitie,
Tis answer'd straight, himselfe has told it me.
This work befits not both; one is enough;
If thou wouldst have me speake, be silent thou.
For (trust me) wert thou nere so liberall,
The givers talking would destroy it all.
[tr. May (1629), ep. 53]
What thou conferr'st on me I do
Remember, and shall think on, too.
Why therefore do I hold my tongue?
Cause, Posthumus, thou ne'er hast done.
As often as I go to treat
of these thy gifts to them I meet,
'T is presently replied, "Forbear,
He whisper'd it into my ear."
Two men some things cannot do well:
One person may suffice to tell,
and do this work: if it may please
That I shall speak, then hold thy peace.
For prithee, Postumus, believe,
Though that thy gifts are great to give
All thanks must perish, and are lost,
When authors their own actions boast.
[tr. Fletcher (1656)]
Your favors to me I remember well;
But do not mention them; because you tell.
Whenever I begin, I'm answer'd strait,
"I heard from his own mouth, what you relate."
Two ill become the business of but one;
Be you but silent, I will speak alone.
Great are your gifts; but when proclaim'd around,
The obligation dies upon the sound.
[tr. Hay (1755), ep. 53]
The services you have rendered me I do not forget, and will always keep them in my mind. How happens it, Posthumus, that I am silent? It is because you talk. Do I begin to expatiate on your favours, I am told, "I heard all about it from himself." Some things are not handsomely performed by two; one person is enough to relate kindness; if you wish me to speak, you must remain silent. The merit of gifts, however great they be, is lost by the garrulity of the giver.
[tr. Amos (1858), ch. 3, ep. 78; ep. 53]
Your services to me I remember, and shall never forget Why then am I silent about them, Postumus? Because you yourself talk of them. Whenever I begin to speak to any one of your favours, he immediately exclaims, "He has told me of them himself." There are certain things which cannot be well done by two people; one is enough in this case. If you wish me to speak, keep silence yourself. Believe me, Postumus, gifts, however great, are deprived of their value by garrulity on the part of the donor.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
I'm grateful for your favors;
They'll never be forgot.
You wonder why I'm dumb about 'em?
Just because you're not.
Whenever I start telling
Of kindnesses you'd done,
The tale, I find, you'd quite concluded
Long ere I'd begun.
Now two men spoil the business
That one does well alone.
If I 'm desired to open my mouth,
Kindly shut your own.
[tr. Nixon (1911)]
Your bounty to me I remember and shall always keep in mind. Why, then, and I silent about it, Postumus? You speak of it. As often as I begin to report to someone your presents, he at once exclaims, "He himself had told me." These are things which two persons do not do nicely: one suffices for this work' if you want me to speak, be you yourself silent. Trust me; gifts, however great, Postumus, lose their value by the chattering of the giver.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
Grateful for all your gifts I still shall be;
"Why then be silent?" Well, you speak for me.
If to a friend your kindness I report,
With, "Yes, he told me so" he cuts me short.
Some tasks are not so suitable for two,
So thank you, Postumus, I'll wait for you.
Believe me, gifts, however rich they be,
Lose all their value by loquacity.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #251]
I remember all you have done for me and shall ever keep it in mind. Why then do I say nothing about it, Postumus? You talk. Whenever I start to tell somebody of your generosity, he exclaims at once: "He tole me that himself." Some things are not nicely done by two. One is enough for this work. If you want me to talk, you must hold your tongue. Believe me, Postumus, the most magnificent of gifts are nullified by the garrulity of the giver.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
You are my patron, I would give you praise,
But when talk of your virtues I would raise,
I'm told you have already laid them out.
Where I would whisper, you your merits shout.
We must more prudently divide our labor
To have efficient impact on our neighbor.
If I'm to praise you, you must hold your peace,
Or give me from my gratitude release.
Your gifts do not give me the power to do
Promotion constantly undone by you.
You undermine my prized veracity
With puffings of your own loquacity.
[tr. Wills (2007)]
I'll always cherish what you’ve done for me.
Why don’t I speak of it? Because you do.
Whenever I tell someone of your bounty,
he cries at once: “He told me of it, too!”
Some things two can’t do well; just one suffices.
You must keep mum, if you want me to gush.
Believe me, Postumus, the greatest gifts
are canceled when the giver just won't hush.
[tr. McLean (2014)]
About your gifts I'd love to gush,
Instead, I feel I have to hush.
When I tell people, they don't doubt it:
You've already bragged about it.
Maybe we should coordinate
Who praises your largesse of late.
But gifts do lose their gleam and such
When givers praise themselves too much.
[tr. Hill (2023)]
For it’s the will
And not the gift that makes the giver.[Denn der Wille
und nicht die Gabe macht den Geber.]Gotthold Lessing (1729-1781) German playwright, philosopher, dramaturg, writer
Nathan the Wise [Nathan der Weise], Act 1, sc. 5 [Lay Brother/Friar] (1779) [tr. Morgan (1955)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translations:
The will, and not the deed, makes up the giver.
[tr. Taylor (1790)]
'Tis
The will, and not the boon, that makes the giver.
[tr. Reich (1860)]
For the will it is
That makes the giver -- not the gift.
[tr. Jacks (1867)]
For the will and not the gift makes the giver.
[Source (1873)]
The will and not the deed perfects the giver.
[tr. Boylan (1878)]
For 'tis the will, and not the gift,
That makes the giver.
[tr. Corbett (1883)]
The will and not the gift
Doth constitute the giver.
[tr. Maxwell (1917)]
Because the intention and not the gift make the giver.
[tr. Reinhardt (1950)]
It's not the gift that makes the giver, no, but rather his good will.
[tr. Ade (1972)]
The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a gem; the sailor, coral and shells; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) American essayist, lecturer, poet
“Gifts,” Essays: Second Series, No. 5 (1844).
(Source)
The root of human virtue seldom bears
Like branches; and the Giver wills it so,
That men may know it is His gift, not theirs.
[Rade volte risurge per li rami
l’umana probitate; e questo vole
quei che la dà, perché da lui si chiami.]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 2 “Purgatorio,” Canto 7, l. 121ff (7.121-123) (1314) [tr. Sayers (1955)]
(Source)
Dante noting that the sons of great kings rarely measure up to their fathers, a reminder from God that those who would be great must seek His blessing, not rely on their heritage.
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Rarely into the branches of the tree
Doth human worth mount up; and so ordains
He who bestows it, that as his free gift
It may be call’d.
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Rarely shoots merit up into the boughs,
Or human worth; and such the will of Him,
That from the Donor they should seem to come.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
Not oftentimes upriseth through the branches
The probity of man; and this He wills
Who gives it, so that we may ask of Him.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Seldom rises human goodness through the branches; and this wills He who gives it in order that from Him it may be claimed.
[tr. Butler (1885)]
But rarely in the branch again is grown
Our human excellence, so willeth He
Who gives it, that the boon be called His own.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
Rarely doth human goodness rise through the branches, and this He wills who gives it, in order that it may be asked from Him.
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Rarely doth human probity rise through the sons branches:
and this he wills who giveth it,
so that it may be prayed for from him.
[tr. Okey (1901)]
Rarely does human worth rise through the branches, and this He wills who gives it, that it may be sought from Him.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
Full seldom human virtue rises through
The branches; and the Giver wills it so,
That they to him for such a gift may sue.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
Rare is the tree that lifts to every limb
the sap of merit -- He who gives, so wills
that men may learn to beg their best from Him.
[tr. Ciardi (1961)]
Rarely does human worth rise through the branches, and this He wills who gives it, in order that it may be asked from Him.
[tr. Singleton (1973)]
Not often does the sap of virtue rise
to all the branches. This is His own gift,
and we can only beg that He bestow it.
[tr. Musa (1981)]
Rarely does human worth rise through the branches;
That is the will of him whose gift it is,
So that it should be matter for petition.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
How seldom human worth ascends from branch to branch,
and this is willed by Him who grants that gift,
that one may pray to Him for it!
[tr. Mandelbaum (1982)]
Seldom does human probity rise up through the branches, and this is willed by him who gives it, that it may be attributed to him.
[tr. Durling (2003)]
Human worth rarely increases through its branches: and this He wills who creates it, so that it may be asked for of him.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
It seldom happens that man’s probity
will rise through every branch. He wills it thus,
so, given from beyond, it’s known as His.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2007)]
Rarely does human worth rise through the branches.
And this He wills who gives it,
so that it shall be sought from Him.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
Goodness rarely flows to the spreading branches
Of a family tree, for God who gives it decrees
That since the gift is His, humans must ask it.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding.
Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931) Lebanese-American poet, writer, painter [Gibran Khalil Gibran]
The Prophet, “Giving” (1923)
(Source)
Child, your first birthday presents will come from nature’s wild —
Small presents: earth will shower you with romping ivy, foxgloves,
Bouquets of gipsy lilies and sweetly-smiling acanthus.[At tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu
errantis hederas passim cum baccare tellus
20mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogues [Eclogae, Bucolics, Pastorals], No. 4 “Pollio,” l. 18ff (4.18-20) (42-38 BC) [tr. Day Lewis (1963)]
(Source)
Celebrating the birth of Saloninus, a boy born in the consulship of his father and Virgil's patron C. Asinius Pollio. Or, possibly, writing of Marcellus, son of Augustus. Or maybe just a lot of veiled references to Augustus himself. Or, say some, divine prophecy of the future Jesus Christ. Lots of theories; some summaries here and here.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Which shall to thee (sweet childe) undrest, bring forth,
Berries, wilde Ivie, and shall pay first fruits
Of mixt Acanthus, with Egyptian roots.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
Unbidden Earth shall wreathing Ivy bring,
And fragrant Herbs (the promises of Spring)
As her first Off'rings to her Infant King.
[tr. Dryden (1709), l. 22ff]
Gladly to thee its natal gifts the field,
Till'd by no human hand, bright Boy, shall yield;
The baccar's stem with curling ivy twine.
And colocasia and acanthus join.
[tr. Wrangham (1830)]
Meanwhile the earth, O boy, as her first offerings, shall pour thee forth every where, without culture, creeping ivy with lady's glove, and Egyptian beans with smiling acanthus intermixed.
[tr. Davidson (1854)]
On thee, child, everywhere shall earth, untilled,
Show'r, her first baby-offerings, vagrant stems
Of ivy, foxglove, and gay briar, and bean.
[tr. Calverley (c. 1871)]
Yes, for you, sweet boy, shall the earth untilled pour forth far and wide a child's simple gifts, the creeping ivy twined with foxglove, and Egyptian beans blended with the bright smile of acanthus.
[tr. Wilkins (1873)]
To deck thy cradle earth spontaneous pours
The spikenard's perfume and the wealth of flowers,
Green ivy creeps around with graceful thread,
And bright acanthus smiles upon the bed.
[tr. King (1882), l. 282ff]
Now, fairest boy, will the new-teeming earth
No culture wait, but pour to make thee mirth,
As toys of off'ring she can soonest bear,
Wild nard and errant ivy everywhere,
And with th' Egyptian lily twined in play,
Laughing acanthus.
[tr. Palmer (1883)]
For thee, O boy,
first shall the earth, untilled, pour freely forth
her childish gifts, the gadding ivy-spray
with foxglove and Egyptian bean-flower mixed,
and laughing-eyed acanthus.
[tr. Greenough (1895)]
Meanwhile the earth, O boy, as her first offerings, shall pour forth for you everywhere, without culture, creeping ivy with lady’s glove, and Egyptian beans with smiling acanthus intermixed.
[tr. Bryce (1897)]
But on thee, O boy, untilled shall Earth first pour childish gifts, wandering ivy-tendrils and foxglove, and colocasia mingled with the laughing acanthus.
[tr. Mackail (1899)]
To him shall bring
Uncultured earth her first small offerings,
Creeping wild ivy, arums, foxgloves too,
Smiling acanthus with bright polished leaf.
[tr. Mackail/Cardew, verse (1908)]
For tributes at thy birth, O blessed babe.
The untilled earth with wandering ivies wild
Shall mingle spikenard, and from bounteous breast
Pour forth her lilies and Egyptian balm.
[tr. Williams (1915)]
But for you, child, the earth untilled will pour forth its first pretty gifts, gadding ivy with foxglove everywhere, and the Egyptian bean blended with the laughing briar; unbidden it will pour forth for you a cradle of smiling flowers.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1916)]
Free-roaming ivy, foxgloves in every dell, and smiling acanthus mingled with Egyptian lilies — these, little one, are the first modest gifts that earth, unprompted by the hoe, will lavish on you.
[tr. Rieu (1949)]
But these, dear boy, are the first pretty gifts in plenty
Our Earth from effortless fields shall bring you: ivy
With foxglove wandering hither and thither, commingled
With lotus and laughing-eyed acanthus.
[tr. Johnson (1960)]
Dear child, there will be new little gifts for you,
Springtime valerian, and trailing ivy,
Egyptian beans, and smiling acanthus, all
poured out profusely from the untilled earth.
[tr. Ferry (1999)]
And for you, boy, the uncultivated earth will pour out
her first little gifts, straggling ivy and cyclamen everywhere
and the bean flower with the smiling acanthus.
[tr. Kline (2001)]
And for you, little boy, the uncultivated earth will scatter its first small gifts, wandering ivy and cyclamens everywhere, beans mixed with laughing acanthus.
[tr. @sentantiq (2015)]
Giving is more joyous than receiving, not because it is a deprivation, but because in the act of giving lies the expression of my aliveness.
Erich Fromm (1900-1980) American psychoanalyst and social philosopher
The Art of Loving, ch. 2, sec. 1 (1956)
(Source)
What prayer should we call wise?
What gift of Heaven should man
Count a more noble prize,
A prayer more prudent, than
To stretch a conquering arm
Over the fallen crest
Of those who wished us harm?
And what is noble every heart loves best.[τί τὸ σοφόν; ἢ τί τὸ κάλλιον
παρὰ θεῶν γέρας ἐν βροτοῖς
ἢ χεῖρ᾽ ὑπὲρ κορυφᾶς
880τῶν ἐχθρῶν κρείσσω κατέχειν;
ὅ τι καλὸν φίλον ἀεί.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 877ff, Stasimon 3 (Ode 4), Refrain [Chorus/Χορός] (405 BC) [tr. Vellacott (1973)]
(Source)
While the passage seems to praise the putting down of one's enemies as the greatest gift of the gods, some modern scholars suggest the final line raises doubts or disagrees with that conclusion.
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
What greater privilege 'midst the fell debate
Can sage or chieftain from the Gods request
Than that of ever fast'ning on the crest
Of the miscreant whom we hate?
Pleasure with unsullied fame
Ever must alliance claim.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
What is wisdom? Or what greater honor do the gods give to mortals than to hold one's hand in strength over the head of enemies? What is good is always dear.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
What is wisest? what is fairest,
Of god's boons to man the rarest?
With the conscious conquering hand
Above the foeman's head to stand.
What is fairest still is dearest.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
What wiser and what nobler gift
Can the good gods bestow on man,
Than when his hands they strengthen, till
He conquers o’er his foeman’s head:
That which is noble, ever is dear.
[tr. Rogers (1872)]
What is true wisdom, or what fairer boon has heaven placed in mortals’ reach, than to gain the mastery o’er a fallen foe? What is fair is dear for aye.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
What wisdom's crown, what guerdon, shines more glorious
That Gods can give the sons of men, than this --
O'er crests of foes to stretch the hand victorious?
Honour is precious evermore, I wis.
[tr. Way (1898)]
What else is Wisdom? What of man's endeavour
Or God's high grace, so lovely and so great?
To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait;
To hold a hand uplifted over Hate;
And shall not Loveliness be loved for ever?
[tr. Murray (1902)]
What is wisdom? What gift of the gods
is held in honor like this:
to hold your hand victorious
over the heads of those you hate?
Honor is precious forever.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
What is wisdom? Or what fairer
gift from the gods in men's eyes
than to hold the hand of power
over the head of one's enemies?
And "what is fair is always followed."
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
What is wisdom, ah! what fairer thing
to mortal men can the gods bestow
than holding high overhead
a firmer first over the foe?
The fair is dear, and forever.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
What is wisdom? Which
of all the God-given gifts
is more beneficial to man
than the power to hold
an enemy powerless at bay?
That which is good is welcome forever.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
What is wisdom? Or what lovelier gift
From the gods, in moral eyes
Than to hold a stronger hand
Over enemy heads:
Honor is dear -- always.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
What good is mere cleverness?
Or rather, what god-given gifts
bring more honor to mortals
than to hold the hand of mastery
over the head of the enemy?
Whatever is honorable is dear always.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
What is wise? What is the finest gift
that gods can give to mortals?
A hand on the heads
of their enemies, pushing down?
[No.] What is fine is loved always.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
What is wise? What fit from the gods
Do mortals judge more beautiful
Than to hold our outstretched
Strong hand over an enemy's head?
What is beautiful is what is always loved.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]
What good is cleverness? Is there any god-given privilege
nobler than the sight of men
than to hold one's hand in triumph
over the heads of foes?
What is noble is always loved.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
What is true wisdom?
What is beauty?
What could be better
Than in your hand to hold
Your enemy's fate?
Beauty is always truth;
And truth beauty.
[tr. Teevan (2002)]
What better, what wiser gift a god could give to men than to hold their hand high above their head as a sign of victory over their enemy?
I always admire the good.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
What is it to be wise? And what gift of the
Immortals is more gracious in humans?
Is it holding your hand over
Your enemies’ head?
What's right is always welcome.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
What is wisdom? What is finer than the rights
men get from gods -- to hold their powerful hands
over the heads of their enemies?
Ah yes, what's good is always loved.
[tr. Johnston (2008), l. 1079ff]
What is wisdom?
The greatest gift of the gods is honour:
to reach your hand in triumph up
over the heads of the enemy.
Honour is everything.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
What is wisdom? Here, now?
What is the highest blessing of gods to mortals?
It is to stretch out your hand
over the head of the one you hate,
the one that hates you,
and know your strength is greater.
Doesn’t that always feel good?
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
What wisdom should guide us? What gift of the gods do people prize more than a strong hand to hold over an enemy's head? Honor is always loved.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
What is wisdom [sophon]? Or what finer prize
do the gods give to mortals than to hold one’s hand
in victory over the head of one’s enemies?
Whatever is beautiful [kalon] is near and dear [philon] forever.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
Let me explain, young man, the two blessings of human life.
Firstly Demeter, Mother Earth — call her what you will —
sustains us mortals with the gift of grain, of solid food.
But he who came next — son of Semele —
matched her gift to man: he brought us wine.
And wine brought peace to the troubled mind,
gave an end to grief, and gave us sleep — blessed sleep —
a forgetting of our sadness.[δύο γάρ, ὦ νεανία,
τὰ πρῶτ᾽ ἐν ἀνθρώποισι: Δημήτηρ θεά —
γῆ δ᾽ ἐστίν, ὄνομα δ᾽ ὁπότερον βούλῃ κάλει:
αὕτη μὲν ἐν ξηροῖσιν ἐκτρέφει βροτούς:
ὃς δ᾽ ἦλθ᾽ ἔπειτ᾽, ἀντίπαλον ὁ Σεμέλης γόνος
βότρυος ὑγρὸν πῶμ᾽ ηὗρε κεἰσηνέγκατο
280θνητοῖς, ὃ παύει τοὺς ταλαιπώρους βροτοὺς
λύπης, ὅταν πλησθῶσιν ἀμπέλου ῥοῆς,
ὕπνον τε λήθην τῶν καθ᾽ ἡμέραν κακῶν
δίδωσιν, οὐδ᾽ ἔστ᾽ ἄλλο φάρμακον πόνων.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 274ff [Tiresias/Τειρεσίας] (405 BC) [tr. Robertson (2014)]
(Source)
To Pentheus, discussing Dionysus. (Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
The two chief rulers of this nether world,
Proud boy, are Ceres, Goddess most benign,
Or Earth, (distinguish her by either name)
Who nourishes mankind with solid food:
Yet hath the son of Semele discover'd,
And introduc'd, the grape's delicious draught,
Which vies with her, which causes every grief
To cease among the wretched tribes of men,
With the enlivening beverage of the vine
Whenever they are fill'd; he also gives
Sleep, sweet oblivion to our daily cares,
Than which no medicine is with greater power
Endued to heal our anguish.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
For two things, young man, are first among men: the goddess Demeter -- she is the earth, but call her whatever name you wish; she nourishes mortals with dry food; but he who came afterwards, the offspring of Semele, discovered a match to it, the liquid drink of the grape, and introduced it to mortals. It releases wretched mortals from grief, whenever they are filled with the stream of the vine, and gives them sleep, a means of forgetting their daily troubles, nor is there another cure for hardships.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
Youth! there are two things
Man's primal need, Demeter, the boon Goddess
(Or rather will ye call her Mother Earth?),
With solid food maintains the race of man.
He, on the other hand, the son of Semele,
Found out the grape's rich juice, and taught us mortals
That which beguiles the miserable of mankind
Of sorrow, when they quaff the vine's rich stream.
Sleep too, and drowsy oblivion of care
He gives, all-healing medicine of our woes.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
Two names, vain youth,
Rank first among mankind : Demeter one,
And Ge the other; give which name thou willest.
She nurtures man, but quenches not his thirst;
The son of Semele has helped this want:
He finds and grants to men the grape’s rich draught;
He takes away the woe of wearied souls,
Filling sad hearts with the vine’s ruddy stream;
And gives them sleep, the cure of daily grief,
The only drug which lightens human ills.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 262ff]
Two things there are, young prince, that hold first rank among men, the goddess Demeter, that is, the earth, -- call her which name thou please; she it is that feedeth men with solid food; and as her counterpart came this god, the son of Semele, who discovered the juice of the grape and introduced it to mankind, stilling thereby each grief that mortals suffer from, soon as e’er they are filled with the juice of the vine; and sleep also he giveth, sleep that brings forgetfulness of daily ills, the sovereign charm for all our woe.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
Two chiefest Powers,
Prince, among men there are: divine Demeter --
Earth is she, name her by which name thou wilt; --
She upon dry food nurtureth mortal men:
Then followeth Semelê's Son; to match her gift
The cluster's flowing draught he found, and gave
To mortals, which gives rest from grief to men
Woe-worn, soon as the vine's stream filleth them.
And sleep, the oblivion of our daily ills,
He gives -- there is none other balm for toils.
[tr. Way (1898)]
Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth.
Dêmêtêr one is named; she is the Earth --
Call her which name thou will! -- who feeds man's frame
With sustenance of things dry. And that which came
Her work to perfect, second, is the Power
From Semelê born. He found the liquid shower
Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim
From grieving, when the vine exalteth him.
He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day
In cool forgetting. Is there any way
With man's sore heart, save only to forget?
[tr. Murray (1902)]
Mankind, young man, possesses two supreme blessings.
First of these is the goddess Demeter, or Earth
whichever name you choose to call her by.
It was she who gave to man his nourishment of grain.
But after her there came the son of Semele,
who matched her present by inventing liquid wine
as his gift to man. For filled with that good gift,
suffering mankind forgets its grief; from it
comes sleep; with it oblivion of the troubles
of the day. There is no other medicine
for misery.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
For there are two things, young man,
that are first among humans: the goddess Demeter
(she is the earth; call her which name you like) --
she nourishes men by way of dry food;
and he who filled the complementary role, Semele's offspring,
discovered the grape-cluster's liquid drink and introduced it
to mortals, that which stops wretched men
from suffering, when they are filled with the stream of the vine,
and gives sleep as oblivion of the evils that happen by day;
nor is there any other cure against distress.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
There are two powers, young man, which are supreme in human affairs: first, the goddess Demeter, she is the Earth -- call her by what name you will; and she supplies mankind with solid food. Second, Dionysus the son of Semele; the blessing he provides is the counterpart to the blessing of bread; he discovered and bestowed on men the service of drink, the juice that streams from the vine-clusters; men have but to take their fill of wine, and the sufferings of an unhappy race are banished, each day's troubles are forgotten in sleep -- indeed this is our only cure for the weariness of life.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
Think of two principles, two supreme
Principles in life. First, the principle
Of earth, Demeter, goddess of sil or what you will.
That nourishes man, yields him grain. Bread. Womb-like
It earths him as it were, anchors his feet.
Second, the opposite, and complementary principle --
Ether, locked in the grape until released by man.
For after Demeter came the son of Semele
And matched her present with the juice of grapes.
Think of it as more than drug for pain
Though it is that.
We wash our souls, our parched
Aching souls in streams of wine and enter
Sleep and oblivion. Filled with this good gift
Mankind forgets its grief.
[tr. Soyinka (1973)]
Two things, my boy,
are primary for men: goddess Demeter
(that’s Earth, call her whichever name you like),
the nourisher of mortals in dry food;
next comes her rival, the child of Semele:
the cluster’s wet drink he found and introduced
to men, that stops poor mortals their distress
when they are filled to flowing with the vine,
giver of sleep, forgetfulness of daily ills,
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
Young man,
two are the forces most precious to mankind.
The first is Demeter, the Goddess.
She is the Earth -- or any name you wish to call her --
and she sustains humanity with solid food.
Next came the son of the virgin, Dionysus,
bringing the counterpart to bread, wine
and the blessings of life's flowing juices.
His blood, the blood of the grape,
lightens the burden of our mortal misery.
When, after their daily toils, men drink their fill,
sleep comes to them, bringing release form all their troubles.
There is no other cure for sorrow.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
Two things, young man,
Are first among mankind: Demeter,
She's the Earth -- call her by either name --
Who nourishes mortals with dry food.
The other, who came after, the seed
Of Semele, discovered Demeter's wet rival,
The drink of the grap, brought it to man
To ease pain for suffering mortals,
When they are filled with the flowing vine,
And to give sleep, forgetful of daily life.
There is no other cure for pain.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
For there are two things, young man,
that are the primary elements among humans. First there’s the goddess Demeter.
She’s the earth But you can call her by whatever name you wish.
She nourishes mortals with dry foods. But he who came afterward,
Semele’s offspring, discovered the wet drink of the grape
as a counter-balance to Demeter’s bread. He introduced it
to mortals to stop their sorrow and pain.
Whenever men are filled with the stream of the grape-vine
they can sleep and forget the evils of the day.
No other medicine alleviates human suffering.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
Young man, there are two
first principles in human life: the goddess Demeter --
or earth -- you may use what name you like --
who nourishes us by means of the dry element;
and the second one balances her exactly, that’s
Semélê’s child, who discovered, in the wet element,
a drink from grapes, a drink he delivered to us.
This brings relief from pain for long-suffering mortals
when they are filled with the vineyard’s bounty;
it grants sleep, lets them forget the evils of the day,
and there is no other cure for trouble.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
Young man -- there are two great first things that we
as mortals have: the goddess of the Earth,
Deméter -- call her by whatever name
You wish -- gave us our solid food, and he
Who came next, Semélê’s child, gave us liquid --
From the grape -- as a counterpart to Deméter's bread.
The god's invention, it give sus poor mortals
Release from pain and sorrow, when we're filled
With what flows from the vine; it gives us sleep,
When we can forget the evils of the day.
Nor for us mortals can another drug
For suffering surpass it.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000), l. 321]
Two things are chief among mortals, young man: the goddess Demeter -- she is Earth but call her either name you like -- nourishes mortals with dry food. But he who came next, the son of Semele, discovered as its counterpart the drink that flows from the grape cluster and introduced it to mortals. It is this that frees trouble-laden mortals from their pain -- when they fill themselves with the juice of the vine -- this that gives sleep to make one forget the day's troubles: there is no other treatment for misery.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
There are two things in this world, young prince, that have been gifted to mankind. The first is the goddess Demeter or the earth, if you wish to call her so, or any other name you would give her, who feeds us mortals with solid food. The second is the son of Semele, who brought us the liquid hidden in the grape. This is no small gift, for when else can mortals loose the ties of their grief? It is wine -- that slips away the ragged robes of the day, sinking us into cool forgetting.
[tr. Rao/Wolf (2004)]
There are two things, young man that are most important to people: It is goddess Demetre (call her by whatever other name you want) who feeds the folk on Earth and who IS Earth; and her counterpart, Dionysos, the son of Semele, this god, the god who discovered the juice of the grape and which he brought to us mortals. This liquid holds back the pain of the tortured soul, gives soft sleep to folk and lets them forget their daily suffering. There’s truly no better medicine for pain or fatigue.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
For there are two things, young one, two, that are
first among humans: One is the goddess Demeter --
and she is earth, call her whatever you will --
it is she who nourishes mortals in corn and grain;
but he who comes after, Semele's offspring, he invented them to match
the flowing drink of the grape and introduced it to mortals;
it gives wretched humans pause from pain when-
ever they are filled with the vine's stream,
and sleep, as aids to forget the troubles of the day:
there is no other drug that cures misery.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
Young man, among human beings two things stand out preeminent, of highest rank. Goddess Demeter is one -- she's the earth (though can call her any name you wish), and she feeds mortal people cereal grains. The other one came later, born of Semele -- he brought with him liquor from the grape, something to match the bread from Demeter. He introduced it among mortal men. When they can drink, up what streams off the vine, unhappy mortals are released from pain. It grants them sleep, allows them to forget their daily troubles. Apart from wine, there is no cure for human hardship.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]
For there are two things, young man, two that are prized above all else by men. The first is the goddess Demeter, for she is the Earth. Call her whichever you prefer. It is she who brings forth solid food from the earth. Dry goods, if you will. But her junior, Semele’s child, showed us the other side of the coin, found the nectar in a bunch of grapes and gave it to mortals, letting them be free of pain when they partake of the river-of-the-vine. He gives us sleep, to forget the evils of the day for a time, and there is no better prescription for pain.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
But let me tell you there are two powers over us, sometimes called "the dry" and "the wet." The first is personified by the goddess Demeter or Earth -- whichever you wish to call her; she nourishes mortals with dry food, with bread. This new god, Semele's child, has come with a matching gift, a crystalline liquid from clustered grapes which he generously brought to end all human suffering. Wine fills the emptiness in the grieved heart and helps us forget in blissful sleep. Hsi is the only medicine to cure our pain.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
Two things, young man, have supremacy among humans: The goddess Demeter -- she is the earth, but call her whatever name you wish -- nourishes mortals with dry food. But he who came then, the offspring of Semele, invented a rival, the wet drink of the grape, and introduced it to mortals. It releases wretched mortals from their pains, whenever they are filled with the stream of the vine, and gives them sleep, a means of forgetting their daily woes. There is no other cure for pains [ponoi].
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
To give a little girl a doll that is not to be used any more than the old-fashioned parlor was used is to violate every principle of fair dealing in childhood.
Marcelene Cox (1900-1998) American writer, columnist, aphorist
“Ask Any Woman” column, Ladies’ Home Journal (1948-01)
(Source)
One’s own flowers and some of one’s own vegetables make acceptable, free, self-congratulatory gifts when visiting friends, though giving zucchini — or leaving it on the doorstep, ringing the bell, and running — is a social faux pas.
The rich know anger helps the cost of living:
Hating’s more economical than giving.[Genus, Aucte, lucri divites habent iram:
Odisse, quam donare, vilius constat.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 12, epigram 13 (12.13) (AD 101) [tr. Michie (1972)]
(Source)
"To Auctus." Closely parallel to 3.37, to the point where some translations are cross-applied in error. The general interpretation, from Ker, is that "picking quarrels with clients saves you giving them presents."
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Anger's a kind of gain that rich men know:
It costs them less to hate than to bestow.
[tr. Fletcher (1656)]
Rich men, my friend, by anger know to thrive.
'Tis cheaper much to quarrel, than to give.
[tr. Hay (1755)]
From ire can gainmongers elicit ore.
Fell hate is frugal: love might lavish more.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), 12.68]
Ask you, last night, why Gripus ill behaved?
A well-timed quarrel is a dinner saved.
[tr. Halhead (1793)]
The rich, Auctus, make a species of gain out of anger.
It is cheaper to get into a passion than to give.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
Rich men, Auctus, regard anger as a kind of profit;
to hate is cheaper than to give!
[tr. Ker (1919)]
The rich feign wrath -- a profitable plan;
'Tis cheaper far to hate than help a man.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]
Rich men, Auctus, think of anger as a sort of moneymaking:
hating comes cheaper than giving.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
The rich pick fights and cause unpleasance:
Hate is cheaper than giving presents.
[tr. Ericsson (1995)]
The rich believe it pays to get irate --
to give is costlier, Auctus, than to hate.
[tr. McLean (2014)]
Common sense is not a gift. It’s a punishment, because you have to deal with everyone who doesn’t have it.
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) British playwright and critic
(Spurious)
Author unknown. Frequently attributed to Shaw, but not found in his writing.
It was the time when sleep first comes to weary mortals,
creeping over us, the sweetest gift of gods.[Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris
incipit et dono divum gratissima serpit.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 268ff (2.268-269) (29-19 BC) [tr. Bartsch (2021)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
It was the time, first sleep the weary soule
Possest, and heavens best gift on mortalls stole.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]'T was in the dead of night, when sleep repairs
Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
It was the time when the first sleep invades languid mortals, and steals upon them, by the gift of the gods, most sweet.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
It was the hour when Heaven gives rest
To weary man, the first and best.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
It was the hour when first their sleep begins
For wretched mortals, and most gratefully
Creeps over them, by bounty of the gods.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 271ff]
It was the time when by the gift of God rest comes stealing first and sweetest on unhappy men.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
It was the time when that first peace of sick men hath begun,
By very gift of God o'er all in sweetest wise to creep.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
'Twas now the time, when on tired mortals crept
First slumber, sweetest that celestials pour.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 36, l. 316ff]
That hour it was when heaven's first gift of sleep
on weary hearts of men most sweetly steals.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
It was the hour when for weary mortals their first rest begins, and by grace of the gods steals over them most sweet.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
It was the time when the first sleep begins
For weary mortals, heaven’s most welcome gift.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
It was the hour when worn-out men begin to get
Some rest, and by god's grace genial sleep steals over them.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
It was the hour when for troubled mortals
rest -- sweetest gift of gods that glides to men --
has just begun.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 371ff]
That time of night it was when the first sleep,
Gift of the gods, begins for ill mankind,
Arriving gradually, delicious rest.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 360ff]
It was the time when rest, the most grateful gift of the gods, was first beginning to creep over suffering mortals.
[tr. West (1990)]
It was the hour when first sleep begins for weary mortals,
and steals over them as the sweetest gift of the gods.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
At that late hour, when sleep begins to drift
Upon fretful humanity as grace from the gods ....
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 319ff]
This was the hour when rest, that gift of the gods
most heaven-sent, first comes to beleaguered mortals,
creeping over us now.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 339ff]
Or fraud lurks somewhere to destroy:
Mistrust, mistrust it, men of Troy!
Whate’er it be, a Greek I fear,
Though presents in his hand he bear.[Aliquis latet error; equo ne credite, Teucri.
Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 48ff (2.48-49) [Laocoön] (29-19 BC) [tr. Conington (1866)]
(Source)
Warning of the Trojan Horse; the origin of the phrase, "Beware Greeks bearing gifts." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Some deceit lurks, Dardans trust not this Horse, What ere it is, Greeks bringing gifts I feare. [tr. Ogilby (1649)]Somewhat is sure designed, by fraud or force;
Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Some mischievous design lurks beneath it. Trojans, put no faith in this horse. Whatever it be, I dread the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Some other guile
Is lurking. Trojans, do not trust this horse.
Whatever it may be, I fear the Greeks,
Even when they bring us gifts.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Some delusion lurks there: Trust not the horse, O Trojans. Be it what it may, I fear the Grecians even when they offer gifts.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Some guile at least therein abides: Teucrians, trust not the horse!
Whatso it is, the Danaan folk, yea gift-bearing I fear.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Some mischief lies behind.
Trust not the horse, ye Teucrians. Whatso'er
This means, I fear the Greeks, for all the gifts they bear.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 7; l. 61ff]
'T is a snare.
Trust not this horse, O Troy, whate'er it bode!
I fear the Greeks, though gift on gift they bear.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Some trickery lurks therein. Trust not the horse, ye Trojans. Whatever it be, I fear the Greeks, even when bringing gifts.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Tricky business
Is hiding in it. Do not trust it, Trojans,
Do not believe this horse. Whatever it may be,
I fear the Greeks, even when bringing presents.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Sure, some trick
Is there. No, you must never feel safe with the horse, Trojans.
Whatever it is, I distrust the Greeks, even when they are generous.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Some trickery is here. Trojans, do not
trust in the horse. Whatever it may be,
I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 68ff]
Some crookedness
Is in this thing. Have no faith in the horse!
Whatever it is, even when Greeks bring gifts
I fear them, gifts and all.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 67ff]
There is some other trick we cannot see. Do not trust the horse, Trojans. Whatever it is, I am afraid of Greeks, particularly when they bring gifts.
[tr. West (1990)]
Or it hides some other trick: Trojans, don’t trust this horse.
Whatever it is, I’m afraid of Greeks even those bearing gifts.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Some other evil lurks inside. Do not trust the Horse, Trojans! Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Some other deception’s lurking deep inside it.
Trojans, never trust that horse. Whatever it is,
I fear the Greeks, especially bearing gifts.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 60ff]
Some trick lurks here. Citizens, don't trust the horse; fear Greeks, even bringing offerings.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Friendship is the gift that goes on giving and is a gift to both the person given to and to the giver as well. But to really make it work, it isn’t enough to give to another person. You also have to let them give to you.
That I nor gold nor silver to you send,
I this forbear, for your sake, learned friend.
Who gives great gifts, expects great gifts again;
My cheap ones to return will cause no pain.[Quod non argentum, quod non tibi mittimus aurum,
Hoc facimus causa, Stella diserte, tua.
Quisquis magna dedit, voluit sibi magna remitti;
Fictilibus nostris exoneratus eris.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 5, epigram 59 (5.59) (AD 90) [tr. Killigrew (1695)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
That of silver or gold we afford no oblation,
'Tis for they sake, sweet Stella, th' economy's such.
Ample off'rings expect ample remuneration;
A plain service of earth will not gravitate much.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Book 2, ep. 11]
In forbearing to send you either silver or gold, eloquent Stella, I have acted for your interest. Whoever makes great presents, wishes great presents to be made in return. By my present of earthenware vases you will be released from such an obligation.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
In sending you no silver plate, no gold plate, I act in your interest, eloquent Stella. He who has given great presents has desired great presents in return: your burden will be lightened by my earthenware.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
Dear poet friend, desirous to befriend you
It is not gold or silver that I send you,
For costly gifts demand a costly guerdon;
My pretty gift shall free you from a burden.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]
If I send you no silver, if I send you no gold, I do so for your sake, eloquent Stella. Whoever gives much, wants much in return. My earthenware will take a load off your shoulders.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
Thank me you get no wealthy gifts from me.
It keeps you of reciprocation free.
[tr. Wills (2007)]
In sending you no silver and no gold,
my purpose, eloquent Stella, is to please.
A lavish giver wants a big return --
my earthenware will put you at your ease.
[tr. McLean (2014)]
When I would send such trifles as I can;
You stop me short; you arbitrary man!
But I submit. Both may our orders give;
And do what both like best: let me receive.[Natali tibi, Quinte, tuo dare parva volebam
Munera; tu prohibes: inperiosus homo es.
Parendum est monitis, fiat quod uterque volemus
Et quod utrumque iuvat: tu mihi, Quinte, dato.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 9, epigram 53 (9.53) (AD 94) [tr. Hay (1755), ep. 54]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
On your birth-day, Quintus, I wished to make you a small present: you forbade me; you are imperious. I must obey your injunction: let that be done which we both desire, and which will please us both. Do you, Quintus, make me a present.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1897)]
Your birthday I wished to observe with a gift;
Your forbade and your firmness is known.
Every man to his taste:
I remark with some haste,
May the Third is the date of my own.
[tr. Nixon (1911)]
On your birthday, Quintus, I was wishing to give you a small present; you must forbid me; you are an imperious person! I must obey your monition. Let be done what both of us wish, and what pleases both. Do you, Quintus, make me a present!
[tr. Ker (1919), Ep. 53]
I wished to send you for your birthday
A gift, a small thing really.
But you said, "No, I want no gift,"
And meant it most sincerely.
Let both our wishes be esteemed.
Why invite a rift
Between us? When my birthday comes,
Please send me a gift.
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]
I wished to give you a trifling birthday present, Quintus. You forbid it. you are an imperious fellow; I must obey your admonition. Let it be as both of us will wish, as gives both of us pleasure: you give me something, Quintus.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
A thief can rifle any till,
A fire with ash your home can fill,
A creditor calls in your debt.
Bad harvest does your farm upset,
An impish mistress robs your dwelling,
Storm shatters ships with water swelling.
But gifts to friends your friendships save.
You keep thus always what you gave.[Callidus effracta nummos fur auferet arca,
Prosternet patrios impia flamma lares:
Debitor usuram pariter sortemque negabit,
Non reddet sterilis semina iacta seges:
Dispensatorem fallax spoliabit amica,
Mercibus extructas obruet unda rates.
Extra fortunam est, quidquid donatur amicis:
Quas dederis, solas semper habebis opes.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 5, epigram 42 (5.42) (AD 90) [tr. Wills (2007)]
(Source)
(Source(Latin)). Alternate translations:
The crafty thefe from battered chest,
doth filch thy coine awaie:
The debter nor the interest,
nor principall will pay.
The fearefull flame destroies the goods,
and letteth nought remaine:
The barren ground for seede recevd,
restoreth naught again.
The subtle harlot naked strips
her lover to the skin:
If thou commit thy self to seas,
great danger art thou in.
Not that thou gevest to thy frend,
can fortune take away:
That onely that thou givst thy friend,
thou shalt posses for ay.
[tr. Kendall (1577)]
Thieves may thy Coffers breake, steale coyne or plate;
Thy house a sudden fire may ruinate.
Debtors may Use, and Principall deny,
And dead thy seedes in barren Grounds may lye:
Thy Steward may be cheated by a Whore;
Thy Merchandise the Ocean may devour.
But what thou giv'st thy friends, from chance is free.
Thy gifts alone shall thine for ever be.
[tr. May (1629)]
Some felon-hand may steal thy gold away;
Or flames destructive on thy mansion prey.
The fraudful debtor may thy loan deny;
Or blasted fields no more their fruits supply.
The am'rous steward to adorn his dear,
With spoils may deck her from thy plunder'd year.
Thy freighted vessels, ere the port they gain,
O'erwhelm'd by storms may sink beneath the main:
But what thou giv'st a friend for friendship's sake,
Is the sole wealth which fortune n'er can take.
[tr. Melmoth (c. 1750)]
Thieves may break locks, and with your cash retire;
Your ancient seat may be consumed by fire;
Debtors refuse to pay you what they owe;
Or your ungrateful field the seed you sow;
You may be plundered by a jilting whore;
Your ships may sink at sea with all their store:
Who gives to friends, so much from Fate secures;
That is the only wealth for ever yours.
[tr. Hay (1755), ep. 43]
The thief shall burst thy box, and slyly go:
The impious flame shall lay thy Lares low.
Thy dettor shall deny both use and sum:
Thy seed deposited may never come.
A faithless female shall they steward spoil:
They ships are swallow'd, while thy billow boil.
Whate'er is bountied, quit vain fortune's road:
Thine is alone the wealth thou has bestow'd.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Book 5, ep. 82]
A crafty thief may purloin money from a chest;
an impious flame may destroy paternal Lares;
a debtor may deny both principal and interest;
land may not yield crops in return for the seed scattered upon it;
frauds may be practices on a steward entrusted with your household purse;
the sea may overwhelm ships laden with merchandise.
Whatever is given to friends is beyond the reach of Fortune;
the wealth you have bestowed is the only wealth you can keep.
[tr. Amos (1858), ch. 3, ep. 77]
A cunning thief may burst open your coffers, and steal your coin;
an impious fire may lay waste your ancestral home;
your debtor may refuse you both principal and interest;
your corn-field may prove barren, and not repay the seed you have scattered upon it;
a crafty mistress may rob your steward;
the waves may engulf your ships laden with merchandise.
But what is bestowed on your friends is beyond the reach of fortune;
the riches you give away are the only riches you will possess for ever.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
A present to a friend's beyond the reach of fortune:
That wealth alone you always will possess
Which you have given away.
[ed. Harbottle (1897)]
A cunning thief will break your money-box and carry off your coin,
cruel fire will lay low your ancestral home;
your debtor will repudiate interest alike and principal,
your sterile crop will not return you the seed you have sown;
a false mistress will despoil your treasurer,
the wave will overwhelm your ships stored with merchandise.
Beyond Fortune's power is any gift made to your friends;
only wealth bestowed will you possess always.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
Some thief may steal your wealth away,
Although by massive walls surrounded;
Or ruthless fire in ashes lay
The ancient home your fathers founded;
A debtor may withhold your dues,
Deny perhaps a debt is owing,
Or sullen ploughlands may refuse
To yield a harvest to your sowing.
A cunning trollop of the town
May make your agent rob his master,
Or waters of the ocean drown
Your goods and ship in one disaster.
But give to friends whate'er you may,
'Tis safe from fortune's worst endeavor:
The riches that you give away,
These only shall be yours for ever.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]
Some cunning burglar will abstract your plate,
A godless fire your roof will devastate,
A debtor steal both interest and loan,
A barren field will turn your seed to stone.
A wily wench will strip your steward bare,
The greedy sea engulf your galleon's ware.
Give to a friend and fortune is checkmated;
Such wealth will ever as your own be rated.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #247]
A cunning thief may rob your money-chest,
And cruel fire lay low an ancient home;
Debtors may keep both loan and interest;
Good seed may fruitless rot in barren loam.
A guileful mistress may your agent cheat,
And waves engulf your laden argosies;
But boons to friends can fortune's slings defeat:
The wealth you give away will never cease.
[tr. Duff (1929)]
A cunning thief will break open your coffer and carry off your money, ruthless fire will lay low your family horne, your debtor will repudiate interest and principal alike, your barren fields will not return the scattered seed, a tricky mistress will rob your steward, the wave ,will overwhelm your ships piled high with merchandise: hut whatever is given to friends is beyond the grasp of Fortune. Only the wealth you give away will always be yours.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
Deft thieves can break your locks and carry off your savings,
fire consume your home,
debtors default on principal and interest,
failed crops return not even the seed you'd sown,
cheating women run up your charge accounts,
storm overwhelm ships freighted with all your goods.
Fortune can't take away what you give your friends:
that wealth stays yours forever.
[tr. Powell (c. 2000)]
The only wealth that's yours forever
is the wealth you give away.
[tr. Kennelly (2008), "Forever"]
Sly thieves will smash your coffer and steal your cash;
impious flames will wreck your family home;
your debtor won't repay your loan or interest;
your barren fields will yield less than you've sown;
a crafty mistress will despoil your steward;
a wave will swamp your ships piled high with stores.
But what you give to friends is safe from Fortune:
only the wealth you give away is yours.
[tr. McLean (2014)]
Savings -- the cunning thief will crack your safe and steal them;
ancestral home -- the fires don't care, they'll trash it;
the guy who owes you money -- won't pay the interest, won't pay at all.
Your field -- it's barren, sow seed and you'll get no return;
your girlfriend -- she'll con your accountant and leave you penniless;
your shipping line -- the waves will swamp your stacks of cargo.
But what you give to friends is out of fortune's reach.
The wealth you give away is the only wealth you'll never lose.
[tr. Nisbet (2015)]
You might just as well take the sun out of the sky as friendship from life; for the immortal gods have given us nothing better or more delightful.
[Solem enim e mundo tollere videntur ei, qui amicitiam e vita tollunt, qua nihil a dis immortalibus melius habemus, nihil iucundius.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
Laelius De Amicitia [Laelius on Friendship], ch. 13 / sec. 47 (44 BC) [tr. Shuckburgh (1909)]
(Source)
Original Latin. Alternate translations:
For they seem to take away the sun from the world who withdraw friendship from life; for we receive nothing better from the immortal gods, nothing more delightful.
[tr. Edmonds (1871)]
It is like taking the sun out of the world, to bereave human life of friendship, than which the immortal gods have given man nothing better, nothing more gladdening.
[tr. Peabody (1887)]
Why, they seem to take the sun out of the universe when they deprive life of friendship, than which we have from the immortal gods no better, no more delightful boon.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]
For they seem to remove the sun from the Earth, these people who remove friendship from life, when we have received no better thing, no sweeter thing, from the immortal gods.
[Source]
Someday I hope to write a book where the royalties will pay for the copies I give away.
Clarence Darrow (1857-1938) American lawyer
(Attributed)
Though great in all, thou seem’st averse to lend
Impartial audience to a faithful friend:
To gods and men thy matchless worth is known,
And every art of glorious war thy own;
But in cool thought and counsel to excel,
How widely differs this from warring well!
Content with what the bounteous gods have given,
Seek not alone to engross the gifts of heaven.
To some the powers of bloody war belong,
To some, sweet music, and the charm of song;
To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assigned
A wise, extensive, all-considering mind;
Their guardians these the nations round confess,
And towns and empires for their safety bless.[Ἕκτορ ἀμήχανός ἐσσι παραρρητοῖσι πιθέσθαι.
οὕνεκά τοι περὶ δῶκε θεὸς πολεμήϊα ἔργα
τοὔνεκα καὶ βουλῇ ἐθέλεις περιίδμεναι ἄλλων:
ἀλλ᾽ οὔ πως ἅμα πάντα δυνήσεαι αὐτὸς ἑλέσθαι.
ἄλλῳ μὲν γὰρ ἔδωκε θεὸς πολεμήϊα ἔργα,
ἄλλῳ δ᾽ ὀρχηστύν, ἑτέρῳ κίθαριν καὶ ἀοιδήν,
ἄλλῳ δ᾽ ἐν στήθεσσι τιθεῖ νόον εὐρύοπα Ζεὺς
ἐσθλόν, τοῦ δέ τε πολλοὶ ἐπαυρίσκοντ᾽ ἄνθρωποι,
καί τε πολέας ἐσάωσε, μάλιστα δὲ καὐτὸς ἀνέγνω.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 13, l. 726ff (13.726) (c. 750 BC) [tr. Pope (1715-20)]
(Source)
Polydamas, suggesting Hector accept counsel from others. Original Greek. Alt. trans.:
Hector, still impossible ’tis to pass
Good counsel upon you. But say some God prefers thy deeds,
In counsels wouldst thou pass us too? In all things none exceeds.
To some God gives the pow’r of war, to some the sleight to dance,
To some the art of instruments, some doth for voice advance;
And that far-seeing God grants some the wisdom of the mind,
Which no man can keep to himself, that, though but few can find,
Doth profit many, that preserves the public weal and state,
And that, who hath, he best can prize.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 646ff]
Hector! Thou ne’er canst listen to advice;
But think’st thou, that if heaven in feats of arms
Give thee pre-eminence, thou must excel
Therefore in council also all mankind?
No. All-sufficiency is not for thee.
To one, superior force in arms is given,
Skill to another in the graceful dance,
Sweet song and powers of music to a third,
And to a fourth loud-thundering Jove imparts
Wisdom, which profits many, and which saves
Whole cities oft, though reverenced but by few.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 877ff]
Hector, thou art impossible to be persuaded by advice. Because indeed a god hath given thee, above others, warlike deeds, for this reason dost thou also desire to be more skilled than others in counsel? But by no means canst thou thyself obtain all things at once. To one indeed hath the deity given warlike deeds; to another dancing; and to another the harp and singing. To another again far-sounding Jove implants a prudent mind in his bosom, of which many men reap the advantage, as it even preserves cities; and he himself who possesses it especially knows its value.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]
Hector, I know thee, how unapt thou art
To hearken to advice; because the Gods
Have giv’n thee to excel in warlike might,
Thou deemest thyself, in counsel too, supreme;
Yet every gift thou canst not so combine:
To one the Gods have granted warlike might,
To one the dance, to one the lyre and song;
While in another’s breast all-seeing Jove
Hath plac’d the spirit of wisdom, and a mind
Discerning, for the common good of all:
By him are states preserv’d; and he himself
Best knows the value of the precious gift.
[tr. Derby (1864)]
Hector, thou art hard to be persuaded by them that would counsel thee; for that god has given thee excellence in the works of war, therefore in council also thou art fain to excel other men in knowledge. But in nowise wilt thou be able to take everything on thyself. For to one man has god given for his portion the works of war, to another the dance, to another the lute and song, but in the heart of yet another hath far-seeing Zeus placed an excellent understanding, whereof many men get gain, yea he saveth many an one, and himself best knoweth it.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]
Hector, there is no persuading you to take advice. Because heaven has so richly endowed you with the arts of war, you think that you must therefore excel others in counsel; but you cannot thus claim preeminence in all things. Heaven has made one man an excellent soldier; of another it has made a dancer or a singer and player on the lyre; while yet in another Jove has implanted a wise understanding of which men reap fruit to the saving of many, and he himself knows more about it than any one.
[tr. Butler (1898)]
Hector, hard to deal with art thou, that thou shouldest hearken to words of persuasion. Forasmuch as god has given to thee as to none other works of war, therefore in counsel too art thou minded to have wisdom beyond all; but in no wise shalt thou be able of thine own self to compass all things. To one man hath God given works of war, to another the dance, to another the lyre and song, and in the breast of another Zeus, whose voice is borne afar, putteth a mind of understanding, wherefrom many men get profit, and many he saveth; but he knoweth it best himself.
[tr. Murray (1924)]
You are a hard man to persuade.
Zeus gave you mastery in arms; therefore
you think to excel in strategy as well.
And yet you cannot have all gifts at once.
Heaven gives one man skill in arms, another
skill in dancing, and a third man skill
at gittern-harp and song; but the Lord Zeus
who views the wide world has instilled clear thought
in yet another. By his aid men flourish,
and there are many he can save; he knows
better than any what his gift is worth.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]
Impossible man! Won't you listen to reason?
Just because some god exalts you in battle
you think you can beat the rest at tactics too.
How can you hope to garner all the gifts at once?
One man is a splendid fighter -- a god has made him so --
one's a dancer, another skilled at lyre and song,
and deep in the next man's chest farseeing Zeus
plants the gift of judgment, good clear sense.
And many reap the benefits of that treasure:
troops of men he saves, as he himself knows best.
[tr. Fagles (1990), l. 839ff]
You are a difficult man to convince with words of persuasion,
Hektor--because god gave you war-deeds beyond others,
therefore in counsel as well as beyond others you wish to have wisdom.
But no way by yourself can you possibly have all together.
For it is true that the god gives war-deeds mainly to one man,
and to another the dance, to another the song and lyre-playing,
while in another man's bosom the lord wide-thundering Zeus puts
excellent wisdom, from which many people derive the advantage --
numerous men he saves, but himself best knows of its value.
[tr. Merrill (2007)]
Vampire super-strength is a poor fit for many of the modern world’s problems — it really doesn’t help you fill in your time-sheet any faster — but when it comes to breaking damp-weakened wooden door frames it’s superb.
Charles "Charlie" Stross (b. 1964) British writer
The Nightmare Stacks (2016)
He that gives should never remember. He that receives should never forget.
The Talmud (AD 200-500) Collection of Jewish rabbinical writings
(Unreferenced)
If a civil word or two will render a man happy, he must be a wretch indeed who will not give them to him.
Louis XIV (1638-1715) French monarch (1643-1715) [Louis the Great, the Sun King)
(Attributed)
(Source)
Quoted in William Seward, Anecdotes of Distinguished Persons, Vol 4, 5th ed. (1804).
The very poor can always be depended upon. They never turn away the hungry. Time and again, all over the United States, have I been refused food at the big house on the hill; and always have I received food from the little shack down by the creek or marsh, with its broken windows stuffed with rags and its tired-faced mother broken with labor. Oh! you charity-mongers, go to the poor and learn, for the poor alone are the charitable. They neither give nor withhold from the excess. They have no excess. They give, and they withhold never, from what they need for themselves. A bone to the dog is not charity. Charity is the bone shared with the dog when you are just as hungry as the dog.
Jack London (1876-1916) American novelist
“My Life in the Underworld,” Cosmopolitan Magazine (May 1907)
(Source)
Republished in The Road, Part 1, ch. 1 (1907). Recalling his days as a hobo in 1892.
We do not quite forgive a giver. The hand that feeds us is in some danger of being bitten. We can receive anything from love, for that is a way of receiving it from ourselves; but not from any one who assumes to bestow.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) American essayist, lecturer, poet
“Gifts,” Essays: Second Series, No. 5 (1844)
(Source)
The man who has received a benefit ought always to remember it, but he who has granted it ought to forget the fact at once.
Demosthenes (384-322 BC) Greek orator and statesman
(Attributed)
(Source)
Attributed in Hugh Percy Jones, A New Dictionary of Foreign Phrases and Classical Quotations (1900).
Defer not thy charities till death; for certainly, if a man weight it rightly, he that doth so is rather liberal of another man’s than his own.
Francis Bacon (1561-1626) English philosopher, scientist, author, statesman
“Of Riches,” Essays, No. 34 (1625)
(Source)
No matter who or what, a box of flowers is better than a slap in the belly with a wet fish.
Robert A. Heinlein (1907-1988) American writer
Friday [Friday Jones] (1982)
The excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather than in its value.
Charles Dudley Warner (1829–1900) American essayist and novelist
Backlog Studies, Eleventh Study (1872)
(Source)
Time is a jewel more worth than a world. Time is not yours to dispose of as you please; it is a glorious talent that men must be accountable for as well as any other talent.
Thomas Brooks (1608-1680) English Puritan divine, writer
The Hypocrite Detected, Anatomized (1650)
We will be held accountable for all the permitted pleasures we failed to enjoy.
The Talmud (AD 200-500) Collection of Jewish rabbinical writings
(Unreferenced)
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.
Emile Zola (1840-1902) French author, journalist
(Attributed)
If we hate ourselves, we can never love others, for love is the gift of oneself. How will you make a gift of that which you hate?
William Sloane Coffin, Jr. (1924-2006) American minister, social activist
Credo, “Faith, Hope, Love” (2004)
(Source)
I now perceive one immense omission in my Psychology— the deepest principle of Human Nature is the craving to be appreciated, and I left it out altogether from the book, because I had never had it gratified till now.
William James (1842-1910) American psychologist and philosopher
Letter to his Philosophy 2A class at Radcliffe College (6 Apr 1896)
The class had sent him a potted azalea at Easter. Full letter:
Dear Young Ladies, I am deeply touched by your remembrance. It is the first time anyone ever treated me so kindly, so you may well believe that the impression on the heart of the lonely sufferer will be even more durable than the impression on your minds of all the teachings of Philosophy 2A. I now perceive one immense omission in my Psychology—the deepest principle of Human Nature is the craving to be appreciated, and I left it out altogether from the book, because I had never had it gratified until now. I fear that you have let lose a demon in me, and that all my actions will now be for the sake of such rewards.
Been through Hell? Whaddya bring back for me?
Ashleigh Brilliant (b. 1933) Anglo-American epigramist, aphorist, cartoonist
Pot-Shots
Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not; a sense of humor to console him for what he is.
Francis Bacon (1561-1626) English philosopher, scientist, author, statesman
(Attributed)
The wise lover does not consider so much the lover’s gift, as the giver’s love. He pays more attention to the giver’s affection than to the gift’s value, and he places less value on all gifts than he does on the beloved.
[Prudens amator non tam donum amantis, quam dantis considerat amorem. Affectum potius attendit, quam censum, et infra dilectum omnia data ponit.]
Thomas à Kempis (c. 1380-1471) German-Dutch priest, author
The Imitation of Christ [De Imitatione Christi], Book 3, ch. 6, v. 2 (3.6.2) (c. 1418-27) [tr. Creasy (1989)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
He that loves prudently, keeps his Eyes upon the Giver, considers the Kindness and Disposition of his Friend, and values the Gift by that, not by his own Quality and Instrinsick Worth.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.), The Christian's Pattern]
And he that loves with purity, considers not the gift of the lover, but the love of the giver: he values the affection more than the tokens of it: esteems his beloved infinitely beyond the benefits he confers.
[tr. Payne (1803), 3.5.1]
A prudent lover considereth not so much the gift of his lover, as the love of the giver. He rather esteemeth the good will, then the value, and placeth all gifts under his beloved.
[tr. Page (1639), 3.6.5]
He that loves prudently, keeps his eyes upon the giver, considers the kindness and disposition of his friend, and values the gift by that, not by its own quality and intrinsic worth.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1809 ed.), The Christian's Pattern]
A considerate lover regardeth not so much the gift of Him who loves him, as the love of the Giver,He esteems the good will rather than the value [of the gift,] and sets all gifts below Him whom he loves.
[ed. Parker (1841)]
He that loves with purity, considers not the gift of the lover, but the love of the giver: he values the affection more than the tokens of it, and places all gifts infinitely below the donor.
[tr. Dibdin (1851), 3.5]
A wise lover considers not so much the gift of the lover as the love of the giver. He looks more at the goodwill than the value, and sets his beloved above all his gifts.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]
A wise lover considereth not so much the gift of his lover as he doth the love of the giver. He regardeth more the love than the gift, and accounteth all gifts little in comparison of his Beloved, who giveth them to him.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]
The prudent lover considereth not the gift of the lover so much as the love of the giver. He looketh for the affection more than the value, and setteth all gifts lower than the Beloved.
[tr. Benham (1874), 3.6.4]
A considerate lover regardeth not so much the gift of him who loves him, as the love of the giver. He esteems the good will rather than the value of the gift, and sets all gifts below him whom he loves.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]
The wise lover regards not so much the gift of Him Who loves as the love of Him Who gives. He regards the affection of the Giver rather than the value of the gift, and sets his Beloved above all gifts.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]
The wise lover does not so much consider a gift from the beloved, as the love of the giver. He turns to the feeling rather than the value, and sets all gifts below the one loved.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]
A wise lover values not so much the gift of the lover, as the love of the giver. He esteems the affection above the gift, and values every gift far below the Beloved.
[tr. Sherley-Price (1952)]
An experienced lover heeds not so much the gift of the lover as the love of him that gave it. What he looks for is affection, not money; his Beloved is higher in his eyes than any gift.
[tr. Knox-Oakley (1959)]
A wise lover does not look at the gift of the one who loves him, but at the love of the giver. He weighs the affection and not the value; and he thinks more of the Beloved than of what the Beloved has to give.
[tr. Knott (1962)]
The prudent lover considers not so much the lover's gift as the love of the giver. He looks at the love that gave the gift rather than the cost. He places the beloved above all.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]
