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Nothing from nothing ever yet was born.

Lucretius

Not they who reject the gods are profane, but those who accept them.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
A falling drop at last will carve a stone.
LUCRETIUS

Drops Fall Power Stone
Falling drops will at last wear away stone.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
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.
LUCRETIUS

God Man Nature Prevent Quite Reason Worthy
Why dost thou not retire like a guest sated with the banquet of life, and with calm mind embrace, thou fool, a rest that knows no care?
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Now come: that thou mayst able be to know That minds and the light souls of all that live Have mortal birth and death, I will go on Verses to build meet for thy rule of life, Sought after long, discovered with sweet toil.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Human life lay foul before men’s eyes, crushed to the dust beneath religion’s weight.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Never trust the calm sea when she shows her false alluring smile.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Lucretius, who follows [Epicurus] in denouncing love, sees no harm in sexual intercourse provided it is divorced from passion.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Yet a little while, and (the happy hour) will be over, nor ever more shall we be able to recall it.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Those things that are in the light we behold from darkness.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.
LUCRETIUS

Explanation Myself Wind
Confess then, naught from nothing can become, Since all must have their seeds, wherefrom to grow, Wherefrom to reach the gentle fields of air.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
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.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
Mother of Aeneas, pleasure of men and gods.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur
From the heart of the fountain of delight rises a jet of bitterness that tortures us among the very flowers.
LUCRETIUS

Anand Thakur

Nothing from nothing ever yet was born.

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Nothing from nothing ever yet was born.

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