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O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes.

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
Gains
Eyes
Eye
Make
Sylvia
Love
Victorious
Life
Prize
Gain
Tongue

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When much dispute has past, we find our tenets just the same as last.
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Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools and pageant of a day So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe.
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Learn from the beasts the physic of the field.
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On cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
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Great oaks grow from little acorns. He has a green thumb. He has green fingers. He's sowing his wild oats. Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
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Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.
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Remembrance and reflection how allied. What thin partitions divides sense from thought.
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Is there no bright reversion in the sky, For those who greatly think or bravely die?
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The difference is as great between The optics seeing as the objects seen. All manners take a tincture from our own Or come discolor'd through out passions shown Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies, Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.
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Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgement, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is PRIDE, the never-failing vice of fools.
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The Physician, by the study and inspection of urine and ordure, approves himself in the science and in like sort should our author accustom and exercise his imagination upon the dregs of nature.
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In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
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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.
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Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
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But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay, Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
Alexander Pope
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Love, Hope, and Joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of pain, These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd Make and maintain the balance of the mind.
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Who know but He, whose hand the lightning forms, Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms, Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind.
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So upright Quakers please both man and God.
Alexander Pope
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There is nothing wanting to make all rational and disinterested people in the world of one religion, but that they should talk together every day.
Alexander Pope
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For forms of faith let graceless zealots fight his can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
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