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Some have at first for wits, then poets passed, Turned critics next, and proved plain fools at last.

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
Fool
Fools
Lasts
Plain
Last
Wit
Next
Poets
Firsts
Passed
First
Critics
Turned
Wits
Poet
Proved

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How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
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When to mischief mortals bend their will, how soon they find it instruments of ill.
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Love the offender, yet detest the offense.
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Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.
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The bookful blockhead ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails.
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All seems infected that th' infected spy, As all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.
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Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade. Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
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Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis true the hardest science to forget.
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No one should be ashamed to admit they are wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that they are wiser today than they were yesterday.
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Most women have no characters at all.
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The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleas'd to the last he crops the flow'ry food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
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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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To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.
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To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines.
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Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing, Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love?
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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.
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Only music has the ability to take you to the edge of reality and allow you to peek in for a moment.
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Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heaven.
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Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.
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E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.
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