How is it that the sky feeds the stars?
One Man's food is another Man's Poison
If anyone decided to call the sea Neptune, and corn Ceres, and to misapply the name of Bacchus rather than to give liquor its right name, so be it; and let him dub the round world "Mother of the Gods" so long as he is careful not really to infest his mind with base superstitions.
Continual dropping wears away a stone.
We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.
What can give us more sure knowledge than our senses? How else can we distinguish between the true and the false?