Quote

Great oaks grow from little acorns. He has a green thumb. He has green fingers. He's sowing his wild oats. Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.

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
Grows
Joyful
Nodding
Hands
Gifts
Waving
Littles
Wild
Sowing
Little
Fingers
Thumb
Great
Green
Oaks
Oats
Grow
Prospect
Acorns
Stand
Thumbs
Tempt
Hand
Agriculture
Reaper

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For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural inclination to carrion.
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Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away . . . . To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint, Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.
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Then marble, soften'd into life, grew warm.
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Nature made every fop to plague his brother, Just as one beauty mortifies another.
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Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?
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The difference is too nice - Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.
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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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Heaven gave to woman the peculiar grace To spin, to weep, and cully human race.
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All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace.
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Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
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How do we know that we have a right to kill creatures that we are so little above, as dogs, for our curiosity or even for some use to us?
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An atheist is but a mad, ridiculous derider of piety, but a hypocrite makes a sober jest of God and religion he finds it easier to be upon his knees than to rise to a good action.
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And more than echoes talk along the walls.
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That each from other differs, first confess next that he varies from himself no less.
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But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise, Whom age, and long experience render wise.
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Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgement, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is PRIDE, the never-failing vice of fools.
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On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
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Whether the darken'd room to muse invite, Or whiten'd wall provoke the skew'r to write In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint, Like Lee or Budgel I will rhyme and print.
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For forms of government, let fools contest Whate'er is best administered, is best.
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A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age.
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