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Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.

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
Lies
Skies
Head
Bully
Lying
Deceit
Like
Pointing
Lifts
Tall
London
Column
Sky
Columns

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Truth needs not flowers of speech.
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Get your enemy to read your works in order to mend them, for your friend is so much your second self that he will judge too like you.
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And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
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On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
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But thousands die without or this or that, Die, and endow a college or a cat.
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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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All chance, direction, which thou canst not see
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I lose my patience, and I own it too, When works are censur'd, not as bad but new While if our Elders break all reason's laws, These fools demand not pardon but Applause.
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Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.
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The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.
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Lo! the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way.
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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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Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside, A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.
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What will a child learn sooner than a song?
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Talk what you will of taste, my friend, you'll find two of a face as soon as of a mind.
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But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat, The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat, To closer shades the panting flocks remove Ye gods! And is there no relief for love?
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Eve left Adam, to meet the Devil in private.
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Like following life through creatures you dissect, You lose it in the moment you detect.
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Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure-and a friend.
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A disputant no more cares for the truth than the sportsman for the hare.
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