“There is no place in nature for extinction.”

From the heart of this fountain of delights wells up some bitter taste to choke them even amid the flowers.

Mother of Aeneas, pleasure of men and gods.

Our life must once have end; in vain we fly From following Fate; e’en now, e’en now, we die.

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.

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?

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

The body searches for that which has injured the mind with love.

Pleasant it to behold great encounters of warfare arrayed over the plains, with no part of yours in peril.

Therefore there is not anything which returns to nothing, but all things return dissolved into their elements.

O goddess, bestow on my words an immortal charm.

We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.

We in the light sometimes fear what is no more to be feared than the things children in the dark hold in terror and imagine will come true.

Such evil deeds could religion prompt.

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

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

Out beyond our world there are, elsewhere, other assemblages of matter making other worlds. Ours is not the only one in air’s embrace.