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Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.

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
Best
Vigour
Youth
Dies
Death

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Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.
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An honest man's the noblest work of God.
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I find myself hoping a total end of all the unhappy divisions of mankind by party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.
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Every man has just as much vanity as he wants understanding.
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Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from every thorn.
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Others import yet nobler arts from France, Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.
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Sometimes virtue starves while vice is fed.
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Two purposes in human nature rule. Self- love to urge, and reason to restrain.
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Tis true, 'tis certain man, though dead, retains Part of himself the immortal mind remains.
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Astrologers that future fates foreshow.
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The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
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All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
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What bosom beast not in his country's cause?
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On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
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Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.
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In various talk th' instructive hours they past, Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last One speaks the glory of the British queen, And one describes a charming Indian screen A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes At every word a reputation dies.
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Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes: the glorious fault of angels and of gods.
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Our plenteous streams a various race supply, The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, And pikes, the tyrants of the wat'ry plains.
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To observations which ourselves we make, we grow more partial for th' observer's sake.
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Live like yourself, was soon my lady's word, And lo! two puddings smok'd upon the board.
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