Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.
All life is a struggle in the dark.
Not they who reject the gods are profane, but those who accept them.
So, little by little, time brings out each several thing into view, and reason raises it up into the shores of light.
Those things that are in the light we behold from darkness.
The wailing of the newborn infant is mingled with the dirge for the dead.