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The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
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
Young
Must
Subdue
Strengthens
Length
Disease
Strength
Growth
Grows
More quotes by Alexander Pope
To teach vain Wits that Science little known, T' admire Superior Sense, and doubt their own!
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Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.
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A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state.
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One science only will one genius fit so vast is art, so narrow human wit.
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We may see the small value God has for riches, by the people he gives them to.
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For forms of government, let fools contest Whate'er is best administered, is best.
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There still remains to mortify a wit The many-headed monster of the pit.
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Like following life through creatures you dissect, You lose it in the moment you detect.
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Fear not the anger of the wise to raise Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.
Alexander Pope
Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, For sober, studious days!
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Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
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Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild In Wit a man Simplicity, a child.
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How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
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Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.
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In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fix'd: 't is fix'd as in a frost contracted all, retiring to the breast but strength of mind is exercise, not rest.
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Who sees pale Mammom pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor.
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Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,Or gave his father grief but when he died.
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What riches give us let us then inquire: Meat, fire, and clothes. What more? Meat, clothes, and fire. Is this too little?
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The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712) -Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Stanza 1.
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A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.
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