These the senses we trust, first, last, and always.
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Anand Thakur
These the senses we trust, first, last, and always.
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If God can do anything he can make a stone so heavy that even he can’t lift it. Then there is something God cannot do, he cannot lift the stone. Therefore God does not exist.
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Mother of Aeneas, pleasure of men and gods.
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Our life must once have end; in vain we fly From following Fate; e’en now, e’en now, we die.
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Therefore there is not anything which returns to nothing, but all things return dissolved into their elements.
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Men conceal the past scenes of their lives.
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Some species increase, others diminish, and in a short space the generations of living creatures are changed and, like runners, pass on the torch of life.
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Nothing from nothing ever yet was born.
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If men saw that a term was set to their troubles, they would find strength in some way to withstand the hocus-pocus and intimidations of the prophets.
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Confess then, naught from nothing can become, Since all must have their seeds, wherefrom to grow, Wherefrom to reach the gentle fields of air.
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I own with reason: for, if men but knew Some fixed end to ills, they would be strong By some device unconquered to withstand Religions and the menacings of seers.
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What once sprung from the earth sinks back into the earth.
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We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.
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So much wrong could religion induce.
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All things around, convulsed with violent thunder, seem to tremble, and the mighty walls of the capacious world appear at once to have started and burst asunder.
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There is no place in nature for extinction.
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