The body searches for that which has injured the mind with love.
All life is a struggle in the dark.
Pleasant it to behold great encounters of warfare arrayed over the plains, with no part of yours in peril.
In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter, which stings in the very flowers.
We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.
Epicurus ... whose genius surpassed all humankind, extinguished the light of others, as the stars are dimmed by the rising sun.