We notice that the mind grows with the body, and with it decays.

Certainly it was no design of the atoms to place themselves in a particular order, nor did they decide what motions each should have. But atoms were struck with blows in many ways and carried along by their own weight from infinite times up to the present.

From the midst of the very fountain of pleasure, something of bitterness arises to vex us in the flower of enjoyment.

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

There is no place in nature for extinction.

[N]ature repairs one thing from another and allows nothing to be born without the aid of another's death.

Constant dripping hollows out a stone.