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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Victory puts us on a level with heaven.
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The sum total of all sums total is eternal.
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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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The drops of rain make a hole in the stone not by violence but by oft falling.
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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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Pleasant it to behold great encounters of warfare arrayed over the plains, with no part of yours in peril.
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Deprived of pain, and also deprived of danger, able to do what it wants, [Nature] does not need us, nor understands our deserts, and it cannot be angry.
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Such are the heights of wickedness to which men are driven by religion.
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Falling drops will at last wear away stone.
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Thus the sum Forever is replenished, and we live As mortals by eternal give and take. The nations wax, the nations wane away; In a brief space the generations pass, And like to runners hand the lamp of life One unto other.
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All things obey fixed laws.
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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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Those things that are in the light we behold from darkness.
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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.
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Human life lay foul before men’s eyes, crushed to the dust beneath religion’s weight.
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