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Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

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
Breaks
Wheels
Break
Upon
Satirist
Sense
Satire
Feel
Wheel
Feels
Alas
Butterfly

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At every trifle take offense, that always shows great pride or little sense.
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He who serves his brother best gets nearer God than all the rest.
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The only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them
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Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
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O let us still the secret joy partake, To follow virtue even for virtue's sake.
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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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And make each day a critic on the last.
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No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.
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Wit is the lowest form of humor.
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Trade it may help, society extend, But lures the Pirate, ant corrupts the friend: It raises armies in a nation's aid, But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd.
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Wit and judgment often are at strife.
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The way of the Creative works through change and transformation, so that each thing receives its true nature and destiny and comes into permanent accord with the Great Harmony: this is what furthers and what perseveres.
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Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?
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Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
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Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
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No louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands or lap-dogs breathe their last.
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Be silent always when you doubt your sense.
Alexander Pope
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Order is Heaven's first law and this confess, Some are and must be greater than the rest.
Alexander Pope
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She went from opera, park, assembly, play, To morning walks, and prayers three hours a day. To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea, To muse, and spill her solitary tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon.
Alexander Pope
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A field of glory is a field for all.
Alexander Pope