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Good-nature and good-sense must ever join To err is human, to forgive, divine.

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
Ever
Human
Join
Humans
Forgive
Must
Forgiveness
Good
Forgiving
Divine
Sense
Nature

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Taste, that eternal wanderer, which flies From head to ears, and now from ears to eyes.
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Ladies, like variegated tulips, show 'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe.
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Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.
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But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain. The wond'ring forests soon should dance again The moving mountains hear the powerful call. And headlong streams hand listening in their fall!
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True self-love and social are the same.
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If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay If I am wrong, O, teach my heart To find that better way!
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Learn from the beasts the physic of the field.
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Tis true, 'tis certain man, though dead, retains Part of himself the immortal mind remains.
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Of fight or fly, This choice is left ye, to resist or die.
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Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise. By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies? Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
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Most women have no characters at all.
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Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, Are lost on hearers that our merits know.
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Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, They rise, they break, and to that sea return.
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But Satan now is wiser than of yore, and tempts by making rich, not making poor.
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Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.
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All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.
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Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
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For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
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Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, With whom my muse began, with who shall end.
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Genius creates, and taste preserves. Taste is the good sense of genius without taste, genius is only sublime folly.
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