Titus Lucretius Carus (c. 15 October 99 BC – c. 55 BC) was a Roman poet and philosopher. His only known work is the didactic philosophical poem De rerum natura about the tenets and philosophy of Epicureanism, and which is usually translated into English as On the Nature of Things. Lucretius has been credited with originating the concept of the three-age system which was formalised from 1834 by C. J. Thomsen.

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We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.

Though the dungeon, the scourge and the executioner be absent, the guilty mind can apply the goad and scorch with blows.

Sweet it is when on the high seas the winds are lashing the waters to gaze from the land on another's struggles.

The drops of rain make a hole in the stone not by violence but by oft falling.

Pleasant it is when over a great sea the winds trouble the waters to gaze from shore upon another's great tribulation, not because any man's troubles are a delectable joy but because to perceive you are free of them yourself is pleasant.

Pleasant it to behold great encounters of warfare arrayed over the plains with no part of yours in peril.

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

What is food to one man is bitter poison to others.

Victory puts us on a level with heaven.

It is great wealth to a soul to live frugally with a contented mind.

Thus the sum of things is ever being reviewed and mortals dependent one upon another. Some nations increase others diminish and in a short space the generations of living creatures are changed and like runners pass on the torch of life.

And life is given to none freehold but it is leasehold for all.

The greatest wealth is to live content with little for there is never want where the mind is satisfied.

Life is one long struggle in the dark.

Constant dripping hollows out a stone.

The sum of all sums is eternity.

From the very fountain of enchantment there arises a taste of bitterness to spread anguish amongst the flowers.

From the heart of the fountain of delight rises a jet of bitterness that tortures us among the very flowers.

So potent was religion in persuading to evil deeds.

The fall of dropping water wears away the Stone.

In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter which stings in the very flowers.