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Did some more sober critics come abroad? If wrong, I smil'd if right, I kiss'd the rod.
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
Right
Abroad
Sober
Kiss
Kissing
Critics
Criticism
Wrong
Come
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And make each day a critic on the last.
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A perfect woman's but a softer man.
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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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But Satan now is wiser than of yore, and tempts by making rich, not making poor.
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With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?-She wants a heart.
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To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, who never mentions hell to ears polite.
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Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.
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A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.
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At ev'ry word a reputation dies.
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The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy.
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Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
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Some men's wit is like a dark lantern, which serves their own turn and guides them their own way, but is never known (according to the Scripture phrase) either to shine forth before men, or to glorify their Father in heaven.
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Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
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Extremes in nature equal ends produce In man they join to some mysterious use.
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The dull flat falsehood serves for policy, and in the cunning, truth's itself a lie.
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Who are next to knaves? Those that converse with them.
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Fickle Fortune reigns, and, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.
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Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows.
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