One Man’s food is another Man’s Poison
LUCRETIUSViolence and injury enclose in their net all that do such things, and generally return upon him who began.
More Lucretius Quotes
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The first-beginnings of things cannot be distinguished by the eye.
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Forbear to spew out reason from your mind, but rather ponder everything with keen judgment; and if it seems true, own yourself vanquished, but, if it is false, gird up your loins to fight.
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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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Tis pleasant to stand on shore and watch others labouring in a stormy sea.
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The drops of rain make a hole in the stone not by violence but by oft falling.
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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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From the heart of this fountain of delights wells up some bitter taste to choke them even amid the flowers.
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So it is more useful to watch a man in times of peril, and in adversity to discern what kind of man he is; for then at last words of truth are drawn from the depths of his heart, and the mask is torn off, reality remains.
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Thus, then, the All that is is limited In no one region of its onward paths, For then ‘tmust have forever its beyond.
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It is a pleasure for to sit at ease Upon the land, and safely for to see How other folks are tossed on the seas That with the blustering winds turmoiled be.
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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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All things keep on in everlasting motion, Out of the infinite come the particles, Speeding above, below, in endless dance.
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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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It is pleasurable, when winds disturb the waves of a great sea, to gaze out from land upon the great trials of another.
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These the senses we trust, first, last, and always.
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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 notice that the mind grows with the body, and with it decays.
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Continual dropping wears away a stone.
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The sum of all sums is eternity.
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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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If the matter of death is reduced to sleep and rest, what can there be so bitter in it, that any one should pine in eternal grief for the decease of a friend?
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All things obey fixed laws.
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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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Meantime, when once we know from nothing still Nothing can be create, we shall divine More clearly what we seek: those elements From which alone all things created are, And how accomplished by no tool of Gods.
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The water hollows out the stone, not by force but drop by drop.
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What can give us more sure knowledge than our senses? How else can we distinguish between the true and the false?
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