The old must always make way for the new, and one thing must be built out of the ruins of another. There is no murky pit of hell awaiting anyone.

Whenever anything changes and quits its proper limits, this change is at once the death of that which was before.

Such are the heights of wickedness to which men are driven by religion.

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

The highest summits and those elevated above the level of other things are mostly blasted by envy as by a thunderbolt.

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.

What can give us more sure knowledge than our senses? How else can we distinguish between the true and the false?