Book IX, Epigram 37 (Ker)

Although, yourself at home, you are arrayed in the middle of the Subura, and your tresses, Galla, are manufactured far away, and you lay aside your teeth at night, just as you do your silk dresses, and you lie stored away in a hundred caskets, and your face does not sleep with you — yet you wink with that eyebrow which has been brought out for you in the morning, and no respect moves you for your outworn carcass — which you may now count as one of your ancestors. Nevertheless you offer me an infinity of delights. But Nature is deaf, and although she may be one-eyed, she sees you anyhow.