More lightly do his sorrows press upon a man, when to a friend or fellow traveller he tells his griefs. Callimachus More Quotes by Callimachus More Quotes From Callimachus A great book is like great evil. Callimachus great-book evil book Set a thief to catch a thief. Callimachus thieves crime Someone spoke of your death, Heraclitus. It brought me Tears, and I remembered how often together We ran the sun down with talk . . . somewhere You've long been dust, my Halicarnassian friend. But your Nightingales live on. Though the Death world Claws at everything, it will not touch them. Callimachus dust friendship long Nothing unattested do I sing. Callimachus I wept as I remembered how often you and I had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. Callimachus tired sky talking I abhor, too, the roaming lover, nor do I drink from every well; I loathe all things in common Callimachus roaming lovers common Here sleeps Saon, of Acanthus, son of Dicon, a holy sleep: say not that the good die. Callimachus holy sleep son To little men, gods send little things. Callimachus little-things littles men O Charidas, what of the under world? Great darkness. And what of the resurrection? A lie. And Pluto? A fable; we perish utterly. Callimachus darkness lying world A good man never dies. Callimachus good-man dies men Big book, a big bore. Callimachus boredom bigs book A big book is a big misfortune. Callimachus big-book bigs book Two goddesses now must Cyprus adore; The Muses are ten, and the Graces are four; Stella's wit is so charming, so sweet her fair face, She shines a new Venus, a Muse, and a Grace. Callimachus shining sweet two You're walking by the tomb of Battiades, Callimachus laughter wine writing And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take. Callimachus long-ago lying art
