Even if I knew nothing of the atoms, I would venture to assert on the evidence of the celestial phenomena themselves, supported by many other arguments, that the universe was certainly not created for us by divine power: it is so full of imperfections.

It is pleasant, when the sea is high and the winds are dashing the waves about, to watch from the shores the struggles of another.

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

The wailing of the newborn infant is mingled with the dirge for the dead.

One thing is made of another, and nature allows no new creation except at the price of death.

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

One Man's food is another Man's Poison