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Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

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
Pole
Intercourse
Sigh
Soft
Speed
Soul
Indus
Waft

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Music resembles poetry, in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master hand alone can reach.
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No craving void left aching in the soul.
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I was not born for courts and great affairs, but I pay my debts, believe and say my prayers.
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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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Beauty draws us with a single hair.
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At every trifle take offense, that always shows great pride or little sense.
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True politeness consists in being easy one's self, and in making every one about one as easy as one can.
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To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines.
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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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Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
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Dogs, ye have had your day!
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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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Who pants for glory, finds but short repose A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
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Ladies, like variegated tulips, show 'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe.
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Extremes in nature equal ends produce In man they join to some mysterious use.
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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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Ah! what avails it me the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep.
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Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend.
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Every woman is at heart a rake.
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Woman's at best a contradiction still.
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