Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.
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Anand Thakur
Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.
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For there is a VOID in things; a truth which it will be useful for you, in reference to many points, to know; and which will prevent you from wandering in doubt.
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Yet a little while, and (the happy hour) will be over, nor ever more shall we be able to recall it.
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One thing is made of another, and nature allows no new creation except at the price of death.
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Look at a man in the midst of doubt & danger and you will learn in his hour of adversity what he really is.
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For fools admire and love those things they see hidden in verses turned all upside down, and take for truth what sweetly strokes the ears and comes with sound of phrases fine imbued.
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All nature, then, as self-sustained, consists Of twain of things: of bodies and of void In which they’re set, and where they’re moved around.
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How is it that the sky feeds the stars?
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No single thing abides; but all things flow. Fragment to fragment clings – the things thus grow Until we know them and name them. By degrees They melt, and are no more the things we know.
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A falling drop at last will carve a stone.
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One Man’s food is another Man’s Poison
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Those vestiges of natures left behind Which reason cannot quite expel from us Are still so slight that naught prevents a man From living a life even worthy of the gods.
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The first-beginnings of things cannot be distinguished by the eye.
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Constant dripping hollows out a stone.
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Falling drops will at last wear away stone.
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We plainly perceive that the mind strengthens and decays with the body.
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