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How vast a memory has Love!

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
Memory
Memories
Love
Life
Vast

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Dear, damned, distracting town, farewell! Thy fools no more I'll tease: This year in peace, ye critics, dwell, Ye harlots, sleep at ease!
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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Some to conceit alone their taste confine, And glittering thoughts struck out at ev'ry line Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
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Curse on all laws but those which love has made.
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Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis true the hardest science to forget.
Alexander Pope
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O let us still the secret joy partake, To follow virtue even for virtue's sake.
Alexander Pope
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Men must be taught as if you taught them not, and things unknown proposed as things forgot.
Alexander Pope
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Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all .
Alexander Pope
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Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
Alexander Pope
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We ought, in humanity, no more to despise a man for the misfortunes of the mind than for those of the body, when they are such as he cannot help were this thoroughly considered we should no more laugh at a man for having his brains cracked than for having his head broke.
Alexander Pope
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Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.
Alexander Pope
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To observations which ourselves we make, we grow more partial for th' observer's sake.
Alexander Pope
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The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
Alexander Pope
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Wit and judgment often are at strife.
Alexander Pope
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I am his Highness' dog at Kew Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
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And die of nothing but a rage to live.
Alexander Pope
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See the wild Waste of all-devouring years! How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears, With nodding arches, broken temples spread! The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead!
Alexander Pope
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Who pants for glory, finds but short repose A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
Alexander Pope
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And make each day a critic on the last.
Alexander Pope
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Learn of the little nautilus to sail, Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
Alexander Pope