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Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,Or gave his father grief but when he died.

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
Died
Gave
Joy
Knew
Father
Divide
Might
Divides
Grief
Friendship

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The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
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And each blasphemer quite escape the rod, Because the insult's not on man, but God?
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Nothing is more certain than much of the force as well as grace, of arguments or instructions depends their conciseness.
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The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read With loads of learned lumber in his head.
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The cabinets of the sick and the closets of the dead have been ransacked to publish private letters and divulge to all mankind the most secret sentiments of friendship.
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Yes, I am proud I must be proud to see Men not afraid of God, afraid of me.
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Why did I write? whose sin to me unknown Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own? As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
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But honest instinct comes a volunteer Sure never to o'er-shoot, but just to hit, While still too wide or short in human wit.
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What then remains, but well our power to use, And keep good-humor still whate'er we lose? And trust me, dear, good-humor can prevail, When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.
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When much dispute has past, we find our tenets just the same as last.
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Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed was the ninth beatitude.
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Ah! what avails it me the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep.
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The world is a thing we must of necessity either laugh at or be angry at if we laugh at it, they say we are proud if we are angry at it, they say we are ill-natured.
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For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
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Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.
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Hope springs eternal.
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Praise is like ambergrease: a little whiff of it, and by snatches, is very agreeable but when a man holds a whole lump of it to your nose, it is a stink, and strikes you down.
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He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
Alexander Pope
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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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A little learning is a dangerous thing drink of it deeply, or taste it not, for shallow thoughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking deeply sobers us again.
Alexander Pope