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Unthought-of Frailties cheat us in the Wise.

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
Frailty
Cheat
Wise
Unthought
Frailties

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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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I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
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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.
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Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.
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O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes.
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No woman ever hates a man for being in love with her, but many a woman hate a man for being a friend to her.
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Like Cato, give his little senate laws, and sit attentive to his own applause.
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But just disease to luxury succeeds, And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds.
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Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
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As some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.
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Every professional was once an amateur.
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Those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
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So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
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Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldst thou find,Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind?First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less!Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are madeTaller or stronger than the weeds they shade?Or ask of yonder argent fields above,Why Jove's Satellites are less than Jove?
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A little learning is a dangerous thing Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
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Age and want sit smiling at the gate.
Alexander Pope
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Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare And beauty draws us with a single hair.
Alexander Pope
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Tis true, 'tis certain man, though dead, retains Part of himself the immortal mind remains.
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Whether the charmer sinner it, or saint it, If folly grow romantic, I must paint it.
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Vast chain of being! which from God began, Natures ethereal, human, angel, man, Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see, No glass can reach, from infinite to Thee, From Thee to nothing.
Alexander Pope