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Whate'er the talents, or howe'er designed, We hang one jingling padlock on the mind.

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
Talents
Designed
Hang
Talent
Padlocks
Mind
Padlock
Jingling
Howe
Whate

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Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.
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One science only will one genius fit so vast is art, so narrow human wit.
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All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace.
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Vice is a monster of so frightful mien As to be hated needs but to be seen Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
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Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, Of crooked counsels and dark politics.
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What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Alas! not all the blood, of all the Howards.
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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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Hope springs eternal.
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Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored Light dies before thy uncreating word: Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall And universal darkness buries all.
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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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What bosom beast not in his country's cause?
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Eve left Adam, to meet the Devil in private.
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Who finds not Providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies.
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Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools.
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The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
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But touch me, and no minister so sore. Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme, Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, And the sad burthen of some merry song.
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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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Some people are commended for a giddy kind of good-humor, which is as much a virtue as drunkenness.
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So man, who here seems principal alone, Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal 'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
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Beauty draws us with a single hair.
Alexander Pope