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Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

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
Dare
Poor
Country
Love

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Music the fiercest grief can charm, And fate's severest rage disarm. Music can soften pain to ease, And make despair and madness please Our joys below it can improve, And antedate the bliss above.
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Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!
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To what base ends, and by what abject ways, Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!
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There never was any party, faction, sect, or cabal whatsoever, in which the most ignorant were not the most violent for a bee is not a busier animal than a blockhead.
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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The pure and noble, the graceful and dignified, simplicity of language is nowhere in such perfection as in the Scriptures and Homer. The whole book of Job, with regard both to sublimity of thought and morality, exceeds, beyond all comparison, the most noble parts of Homer.
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True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
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Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
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Is there a parson much bemused in beer, a maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer, a clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, who pens a stanza when he should engross?
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Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?
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Why did I write? whose sin to me unknown Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own? As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
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There is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and friendship.
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Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, Of crooked counsels and dark politics.
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Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
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Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?
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The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
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As some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.
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She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules Charms by accepting, by submitting, sways, Yet has her humor most, when she obeys.
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Nor in the critic let the man be lost.
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The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
Alexander Pope