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There is nothing that exists so great or marvelous that over time mankind does not admire it less and less.

Lucretius

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Lucretius
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Titus Lucretius Carus
Titus Carus Lucretius
Exists
Mankind
Less
Doe
Nothing
Great
Time
Marvelous
Admire

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The mask is torn off, while the reality remains
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So potent was religion in persuading to evil deeds.
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Fear holds dominion over mortality Only because, seeing in land and sky So much the cause whereof no wise they know, Men think Divinities are working there.
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Fear is the mother of all gods.
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For there is a VOID in things a truth which it will be useful for you, in reference to many points, to know and which will prevent you from wandering in doubt.
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Violence and wrong enclose all who commit them in their meshes and do mostly recoil on him from whom they begin.
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Victory puts us on a level with heaven.
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Life is one long struggle in the dark.
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But yet creation's neither crammed nor blocked About by body: there's in things a void- Which to have known will serve thee many a turn, Nor will not leave thee wandering in doubt, Forever searching in the sum of all, And losing faith in these pronouncements mine.
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Sweet it is, when on the high seas the winds are lashing the waters, to gaze from the land on another's struggles.
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Nay, the greatest wits and poets, too, cease to live Homer, their prince, sleeps now in the same forgotten sleep as do the others. [Lat., Adde repertores doctrinarum atque leporum Adde Heliconiadum comites quorum unus Homerus Sceptra potitus, eadem aliis sopitu quiete est.]
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Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.
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The highest summits and those elevated above the level of other things are mostly blasted by envy as by a thunderbolt.
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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.
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The wailing of the newborn infant is mingled with the dirge for the dead.
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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.
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...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.
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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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These [the senses] we trust, first, last, and always.
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How many evils have flowed from religion.
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