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All chance, direction, which thou canst not see

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
Canst
Erring
Discord
Thou
Direction
Chance

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Genuine religion is not so much a matter of feeling as a matter of principle.
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Astrologers that future fates foreshow.
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He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
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So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
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One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight.
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Rogues in rags are kept in countenance by rogues in ruffles.
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Count all th' advantage prosperous Vice attains, 'Tis but what Virtue flies from and disdains: And grant the bad what happiness they would, One they must want--which is, to pass for good.
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Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
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All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.
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Lo! the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way.
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Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense weigh thy opinion against Providence.
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Every professional was once an amateur.
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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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Who shall decide when doctors disagree, And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?
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The dances ended, all the fairy train For pinks and daisies search'd the flow'ry plain.
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True friendship's laws are by this rule express'd, Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
Alexander Pope
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Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.
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Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.
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Silence! coeval with eternity! thou wert ere Nature's self began to be thine was the sway ere heaven was formed on earth, ere fruitful thought conceived creation's birth.
Alexander Pope
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Words are like Leaves and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.
Alexander Pope