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See the wild Waste of all-devouring years! How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears, With nodding arches, broken temples spread! The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead!

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
Appears
Sepulchre
Wild
Nodding
Spread
Devouring
Waste
Arches
Broken
Vanish
Dead
Tombs
Years
Rome
Like
Temples

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Whate'er the talents, or howe'er designed, We hang one jingling padlock on the mind.
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All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see All discord, harmony not understood All partial evil, universal good.
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Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul Reason's comparing balance rules the whole. Man, but for that no action could attend, And, but for this, were active to no end: Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot, To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot Or, meteor-like, flame lawless thro' the void, Destroying others, by himself destroy'd.
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In men, we various ruling passions find In women, two almost divide the kind Those, only fixed, they first or last obey, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.
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Consult the Genius of the Place in all.
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In faith and hope the world will disagree, but all mankind's concern is charity.
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Fly, dotard, fly! With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.
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Who know but He, whose hand the lightning forms, Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms, Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind.
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To swear is neither brave, polite, nor wise.
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Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
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Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
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A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.
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Remembrance and reflection how allied. What thin partitions divides sense from thought.
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Two purposes in human nature rule. Self- love to urge, and reason to restrain.
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There is a certain majesty in simplicity which is far above all the quaintness of wit.
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Genius involves both envy and calumny.
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Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
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Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis true the hardest science to forget.
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Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.
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A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.
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