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For he lives twice who can at once employ, The present well, and e'en the past enjoy.

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
Lives
Past
Wells
Well
Employ
Life
Twice
Management
Present
Enjoy

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One science only will one genius fit so vast is art, so narrow human wit.
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There should be, methinks, as little merit in loving a woman for her beauty as in loving a man for his prosperity both being equally subject to change.
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A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.
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Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around!
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I am his Highness' dog at Kew Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
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A pear-tree planted nigh: 'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly show, And hung with dangling pears was every bough.
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Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, Not one will change his neighbor with himself.
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The cabinets of the sick and the closets of the dead have been ransacked to publish private letters and divulge to all mankind the most secret sentiments of friendship.
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Tis use alone that sanctifies expense And splendor borrow all her rays from sense.
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Who finds not Providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies.
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Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue
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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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Health consists with temperance alone.
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By flatterers besieged And so obliging that he ne'er obliged.
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But those who cannot write, and those who can, All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man.
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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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What is it to be wise? 'Tis but to know how little can be known, To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
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Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks through Nature up to Nature's God.
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Nature made every fop to plague his brother, Just as one beauty mortifies another.
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The search of our future being is but a needless, anxious, and haste to be knowing, sooner than we can, what, without all this solicitude, we shall know a little later.
Alexander Pope