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Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe.

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
Worthy
Flow
Friendship
Wells
Foe
Well
Verse
Make
Cursed
Men
Verses
Tends

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Nor Fame I slight, nor her favors call.
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The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
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The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
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Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell aspiring to be angels men rebel.
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Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all .
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Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.
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I find myself hoping a total end of all the unhappy divisions of mankind by party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.
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Virtuous and vicious every man must be, few in the extreme, but all in the degree.
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And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
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What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
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Know then thyself, presume not God to scan The proper study of mankind is man.
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There is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and friendship.
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A field of glory is a field for all.
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Persons of genius, and those who are most capable of art, are always most fond of nature: as such are chiefly sensible, that all art consists in the imitation and study of nature.
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Love the offender, yet detest the offense.
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I am his Highness' dog at Kew Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
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See! From the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings Short is his joy! He feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
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Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
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Learn of the little nautilus to sail, Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
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Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
Alexander Pope