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Nor Fame I slight, nor her favors call.

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
Slight
Favors
Dignity
Fame
Call

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For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
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The proper study of Mankind is Man.
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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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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart
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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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To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines.
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Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools and pageant of a day So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe.
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Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent as more suitable A vile conceit in pompous words express'd, Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd.
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Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.
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At ev'ry word a reputation dies.
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True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
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To dazzle let the vain design, To raise the thought and touch the heart, be thine!
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Why has not Man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, Man is not a Fly. Say what the use, were finer optics giv'n, T' inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n.
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The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife gives all the strength and color of our life.
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Our grandsire, Adam, ere of Eve possesst, Alone, and e'en in Paradise unblest, With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd, And wander'd in the solitary shade. The Maker say, took pity, and bestow'd Woman, the last, the best reserv'd of God.
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Fool, 'tis in vain from wit to wit to roam: Know, sense, like charity, begins at home.
Alexander Pope
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So man, who here seems principal alone, Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal 'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
Alexander Pope
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From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.
Alexander Pope
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Teach me to feel another's woe, to hide the fault I see, that mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me.
Alexander Pope
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And make each day a critic on the last.
Alexander Pope