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When to the Permanent is sacrificed the Mutable, the prize is thine: the drop returneth whence it came. The Open Path leads to the changeless change - Non-Being, the glorious state of Absoluteness, the Bliss past human thought.
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
Past
Drop
Absoluteness
Thought
Glorious
Mutable
Change
Permanent
Changeless
States
Leads
Whence
Human
Path
Sacrificed
Humans
Open
Thine
Came
Bliss
State
Prize
More quotes by Alexander Pope
Is that a birthday? 'tis, alas! too clear 'Tis but the funeral of the former year.
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Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n.
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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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Those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
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Pretty! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, of straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.
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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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The difference is too nice - Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.
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What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Alas! not all the blood, of all the Howards.
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Fool, 'tis in vain from wit to wit to roam: Know, sense, like charity, begins at home.
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A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.
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Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes And when in act they cease, in prospect rise.
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To what base ends, and by what abject ways, Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!
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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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True disputants are like true sportsmen: their whole delight is in the pursuit.
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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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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.
Alexander Pope
O peace! how many wars were waged in thy name.
Alexander Pope
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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Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.
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Whatever is, is right.
Alexander Pope