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Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings? Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?
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
Wings
Hawks
Stooping
Sings
Plumage
Dove
Admires
Hears
Falcon
Spare
Hawk
Spares
Gilded
Insects
Insect
Admire
Varying
More quotes by Alexander Pope
Truth shines the brighter, clad in verse.
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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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The light of Heaven restore Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more.
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Virtue alone is happiness below.
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Consult the Genius of the Place in all.
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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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Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
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No creature smarts so little as a fool.
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All chance, direction, which thou canst not see
Alexander Pope
Most women have no characters at all.
Alexander Pope
chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd.
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The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.
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Judges and senates have been bought for gold Esteem and love were never to be sold.
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He who tells a lie is not sensible of how great a task he undertakes for he must be forced to invent twenty more to maintain that one.
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How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
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The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd
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The heart resolves this matter in a trice, Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.
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On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
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And each blasphemer quite escape the rod, Because the insult's not on man, but God?
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Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoyIs it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
Alexander Pope