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But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay, Time conquers all, and we must time obey.

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
Conquer
Conquers
Arise
Dew
Unwholesome
Winter
Blows
Dews
Blow
Obey
Orion
Nature
Sharp
Noxious
Must
Decay
Diffuse
Feels
Shed
Pines
Time
Shade
Sheds

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Sure of their qualities and demanding praise, more go to ruined fortunes than are raised.
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When to the Permanent is sacrificed the Mutable, the prize is thine: the drop returneth whence it came. The Open Path leads to the changeless change - Non-Being, the glorious state of Absoluteness, the Bliss past human thought.
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Some praise at morning what they blame at night, but always think the last opinion right.
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Judge not of actions by their mere effect Dive to the center, and the cause detect. Great deeds from meanest springs may take their course, And smallest virtues from a mighty source.
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And each blasphemer quite escape the rod, Because the insult's not on man, but God?
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Two women seldom grow intimate but at the expense of a third person they make friendships as kings of old made leagues, who sacrificed some poor animal betwixt them, and commenced strict allies so the ladies, after they have pulled some character to pieces, are from henceforth inviolable friends.
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Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.
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By music minds an equal temper know, Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. . . . . Warriors she fires with animated sounds. Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds.
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But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain. The wond'ring forests soon should dance again The moving mountains hear the powerful call. And headlong streams hand listening in their fall!
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Whate'er the talents, or howe'er designed, We hang one jingling padlock on the mind.
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Wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
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I believe no one qualification is so likely to make a good writer, as the power of rejecting his own thoughts.
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But just disease to luxury succeeds, And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds.
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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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To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine sense is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.
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Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
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Who pants for glory, finds but short repose A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
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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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How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, and love the offender, yet detest the offence?
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Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.
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