Such are the heights of wickedness to which men are driven by religion.
LUCRETIUSRelated Topics
Anand Thakur
Such are the heights of wickedness to which men are driven by religion.
LUCRETIUS
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
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.
LUCRETIUS
Rest, brother, rest. Have you done ill or well Rest, rest, There is no God, no gods who dwell Crowned with avenging righteousness on high Nor frowning ministers of their hate in hell.
LUCRETIUS
The water hollows out the stone, not by force but drop by drop.
LUCRETIUS
We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.
LUCRETIUS
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.
LUCRETIUS
For out of doubt In these affairs ’tis each man’s will itself That gives the start, and hence throughout our limbs Incipient motions are diffused.
LUCRETIUS
True piety lies rather in the power to contemplate the universe with a quiet mind.
LUCRETIUS
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?
LUCRETIUS
You alone govern the nature of things. Without you nothing emerges into the light of day, without you nothing is joyous or lovely.
LUCRETIUS
The greatest wealth is to live content with little, for there is never want where the mind is satisfied.
LUCRETIUS
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.
LUCRETIUS
Do we not see all humans unaware Of what they want, and always searching everywhere, And changing place, as if to drop the load they bear?
LUCRETIUS
Thus it comes That earth, without her seasons of fixed rains, Could bear no produce such as makes us glad, And whatsoever lives, if shut from food, Prolongs its kind and guards its life no more.
LUCRETIUS
Those things that are in the light we behold from darkness.
LUCRETIUS