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Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored Light dies before thy uncreating word: Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall And universal darkness buries all.

Alexander Pope

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Alexander Pope
Age: 56 †
Born: 1688
Born: May 21
Died: 1744
Died: May 30
Literary Historian
Poet
Translator
the City
Pope the Poet
Alexander I Pope
Alexander
I Pope
Shine
Curtain
Left
Universal
Dread
Spark
Hands
Darkness
Empires
Curtains
Light
Divine
Flames
Flame
Human
Hand
Chaos
Lets
Anarch
Humans
Public
Shining
Glimpse
Buries
Great
Dies
Dare
Empire
Dares
Word
Sparks
Restored
Fall
Private

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.
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On cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
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Reason, however able, cool at best, Cares not for service, or but serves when prest, Stays till we call, and then not often near.
Alexander Pope
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Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition and the pride of kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us, and to die) Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man A mighty maze! but not without a plan.
Alexander Pope
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Death, only death, can break the lasting chain And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain
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Oft in dreams invention we bestow to change a flounce or add a furbelow.
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Some have at first for wits, then poets passed, Turned critics next, and proved plain fools at last.
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There are some solitary wretches who seem to have left the rest of mankind, only, as Eve left Adam, to meet the devil in private.
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Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
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Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.
Alexander Pope
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Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot, To draw nutrition, propagate and rot.
Alexander Pope
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Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these.
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Count all th' advantage prosperous Vice attains, 'Tis but what Virtue flies from and disdains: And grant the bad what happiness they would, One they must want--which is, to pass for good.
Alexander Pope
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To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines.
Alexander Pope
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Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
Alexander Pope
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For when success a lover's toil attends,Few ask, if fraud or force attain'd his ends
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A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.
Alexander Pope
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Let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, so long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.
Alexander Pope
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On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, Reason the card, but passion is the gale Nor God alone in the still calm we find, He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.
Alexander Pope
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What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath. A thing beyond us, even before our death.
Alexander Pope