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Search then the ruling passion there alone, The wild are constant, and the cunning known The fool consistent, and the false sincere Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.

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
False
Princes
Constant
Cunning
Fool
Ruling
Priests
Alone
Sincere
Passion
Consistent
Known
Search
Women
Wild
Dissemblers

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Trust not yourself, but your defects to know, make use of every friend and every foe.
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Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense weigh thy opinion against Providence.
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Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.
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True self-love and social are the same.
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No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.
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Be thou the first true merit to befriend, his praise is lost who stays till all commend.
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Some people will never learn anything, for this reason, because they understand everything too soon.
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Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.
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Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamtrous lapwings feel the leaden death Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
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Die of a rose in aromatic pain.
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The only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them
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Be silent always when you doubt your sense.
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And more than echoes talk along the walls.
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A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.
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What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.
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What Conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do This teach me more than Hell to shun, That more than Heav'n pursue.
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To Him no high, no low, no great, no small He fills, He bounds, connects and equals all!
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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.
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