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The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd

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
Wish
Forgetting
Mind
Remembrance
Love
Sunshine
World
Pray
Accepted
Spotless
Praying
Blameless
Eternal
Resign
Forget
Forgot

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The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth.
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Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.
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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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Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
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O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes.
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When we are young, we are slavishly employed in procuring something whereby we may live comfortably when we grow old and when we are old, we perceive it is too late to live as we proposed.
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A brave man thinks no one his superior who does him an injury, for he has it then in his power to make himself superior to the other by forgiving it.
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But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay, Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
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What Conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do This teach me more than Hell to shun, That more than Heav'n pursue.
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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.
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All seems infected that th' infected spy, As all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.
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On cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
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By music minds an equal temper know, Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. . . . . Warriors she fires with animated sounds. Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds.
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False happiness is like false money it passes for a time as well as the true, and serves some ordinary occasions but when it is brought to the touch, we find the lightness and alloy, and feel the loss.
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The Muse but serv'd to ease some friend, not wife, / To help me through this long disease, my life.
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Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!
Alexander Pope
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Our judgments, like our watches, none go just alike, yet each believes his own
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Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray, With joyous musick wake the dawning day.
Alexander Pope
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each Seene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage.
Alexander Pope
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One self-approving hour whole years outweighs.
Alexander Pope