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The nicest constitutions of government are often like the finest pieces of clock-work, which, depending on so many motions, are therefore more subject to be out of order.
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
Order
Finest
Government
Clock
Many
Subject
Work
Constitution
Like
Therefore
Constitutions
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Nicest
Pieces
Motions
Often
Depending
More quotes by Alexander Pope
No creature smarts so little as a fool.
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Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.
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Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,Or gave his father grief but when he died.
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Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme, Happy to catch me, just at dinner-time.
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Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise Laugh where we must, be candid where we can, But vindicate the ways of God to man.
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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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Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!
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Get your enemy to read your works in order to mend them, for your friend is so much your second self that he will judge too like you.
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While I live, no rich or noble knave shall walk the world in credit to his grave.
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See! From the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings Short is his joy! He feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
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Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
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A family is but too often a commonwealth of malignants.
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Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide: If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all.
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O happiness! our being's end and aim! Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name: That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die.
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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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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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Say first, of god above or man below what can we reason but from what we know.
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The villain's censure is extorted praise.
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Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.
Alexander Pope
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