Classical Athenian comic playwright (c. 446 – c. 386 BC)
Aristophanes (Greek: Ἀριστοφάνης; c. 446 – c. 386 BC) was a Greek poet and playwright of the Old Comedy, also known as the Father of Comedy and the Prince of Ancient Comedy. Of his forty plays, eleven are extant, plus a thousand fragments of the others.
From: Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0)
Native Name:
Ἀριστοφάνης
Alternative Names:
Father of Comedy
From Wikidata (CC0)
Showing quotes in randomized order to avoid selection bias. Click Popular for most popular quotes.
Works in ChatGPT, Claude, or Any AI
Add semantic quote search to your AI assistant via MCP. One command setup.
Our origin is very much older than that of the dwellers of Mount Olympus… And what important services do not the birds render to mortals? … Through us you will know the winds and the seasons, summer, winter and the temperate months. We shall not withdraw ourselves to the highest clouds like Zeus, but shall be among you and shall give to you and to your children and to the children of your children health and wealth, long life, peace, youth, laughter, songs and feasts. … Is it not the most priceless gift of all to be winged?
Strep. Socrates! My little Socrates!
Socrates. Why callest thou me, thou creature of a day?
Strep. First tell me, I beseech you, what are you doing.
Soc. I am walking in the air, and speculating about the
sun.
Strep. And so you look down upon the gods from your
basket, and not from the earth?
Soc. For I should not have rightly discovered things
celestial if I had not suspended the intellect, and
mixed the thought in a subtle form with its kindred air.
But if, being on the ground, I speculated from below on
things above, I should never have discovered them. For
the earth forcibly attracts to itself the meditative
moisture. Water-cresses also suffer the very same thing.
Strep. What do you say? Does meditation attract the
moisture to the water-cresses? Come then, my little
Socrates, descend to me, that you may teach me those
things, for the sake of which I have come.
All we have to do is idly sit
indoors
With smooth roses powdered
on our cheeks,
Our bodies burning naked
through the fold
Of shining Amorgos' silk
and meet the men
With our dear Venus-plats
plucked trim and neat.
Their stirring love will rise
up furiously,
They'll beg our arms to
open. That's our time!
We'll disregard their knocking
beat them off
And they will soon be rabid
for a Peace
I'm sure of it.