Diogenes was gathering figs, and was told by the keeper that not long before a man had hanged himself on that very fig tree.
"Then," said he, "I will now purge it."
Seeing an Olympian victor casting repeated glances at a courtesan, "See," he said, "yonder ram frenzied for battle, how he is held fast by the neck fascinated by a common minx."
Handsome courtesans he would compare to a deadly honeyed potion.
He was breakfasting in the marketplace, and the bystanders gathered round him with cries of "dog!"
"It is you who are dogs," cried he, "when you stand round and watch me at my breakfast."
When two cowards hid away from him, he called out, "Don't be afraid, a hound is not fond of beetroot."
—Diogenes Laërtius, 6.61
IMAGE: John Charles Dollman, Table d'Hote at a Dogs' Home (1879)
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