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Who are next to knaves? Those that converse with them.

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
Next
Knaves
Converse
Converses

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Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these.
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But touch me, and no minister so sore. Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme, Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, And the sad burthen of some merry song.
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And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public show.
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For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural inclination to carrion.
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Order is heaven's first law.
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To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.
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All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace.
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Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
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But those who cannot write, and those who can, All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man.
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Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, With whom my muse began, with who shall end.
Alexander Pope
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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.
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Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
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But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.
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Fools admire, but men of sense approve.
Alexander Pope
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Why did I write? What sin to me unknown dipped me in ink, my parents , or my own?
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What so pure, which envious tongues will spare? Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair, With matchless impudence they style a wife, The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, A night invasion, and a mid-day devil Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard, But curse the bones of ev'ry living bard.
Alexander Pope
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Say first, of god above or man below what can we reason but from what we know.
Alexander Pope
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The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712) -Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Stanza 1.
Alexander Pope
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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.
Alexander Pope
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There never was any party, faction, sect, or cabal whatsoever, in which the most ignorant were not the most violent for a bee is not a busier animal than a blockhead.
Alexander Pope