The wailing of the newborn infant is mingled with the dirge for the dead.
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Anand Thakur
The wailing of the newborn infant is mingled with the dirge for the dead.
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Though the dungeon, the scourge, and the executioner be absent, the guilty mind can apply the goad and scorch with blows.
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Pleasant it to behold great encounters of warfare arrayed over the plains, with no part of yours in peril.
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So much wrong could religion induce.
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Things stand apart so far and differ, that What’s food for one is poison for another.
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How is it that the sky feeds the stars?
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So potent was religion in persuading to evil deeds.
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How many evils has religion caused! [Lat., Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum!]
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Violence and injury enclose in their net all that do such things, and generally return upon him who began.
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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?
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Bodies, again, Are partly primal germs of things, and partly Unions deriving from the primal germs.
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It’s easier to avoid the snares of love than to escape once you are in that net.
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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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Death is nothing to us, it matters not one jot, since the nature of the mind is understood to be mortal.
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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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Nature allows Destruction nor collapse of aught, until Some outward force may shatter by a blow, Or inward craft, entering its hollow cells, Dissolve it down.
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