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In men, we various ruling passions find In women, two almost divide the kind Those, only fixed, they first or last obey, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.

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
Two
Passions
Women
Fixed
Find
Various
Firsts
Almost
Sway
First
Passion
Divide
Kind
Pleasure
Ruling
Men
Lasts
Obey
Love
Last
Divides

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Fickle Fortune reigns, and, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.
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Heaven breathes thro' ev'ry member of the whole One common blessing, as one common soul.
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Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition and the pride of kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us, and to die) Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man A mighty maze! but not without a plan.
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I am satisfied to trifle away my time, rather than let it stick by me.
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The most positive men are the most credulous.
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The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.
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Where's the man who counsel can bestow, still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know.
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No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.
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Oh, blindness to the future! kindly giv'n, That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven.
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Nothing can be more shocking and horrid than one of our kitchens sprinkled with blood, and abounding with the cries of expiring victims or with the limbs of dead animals scattered or hung up here and there.
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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
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Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoyIs it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
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What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy, Is virtue's prize.
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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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All looks yellow to a jaundiced eye.
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The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth.
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This long disease, my life.
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But thousands die without or this or that, Die, and endow a college or a cat.
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Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.
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