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Some men's wit is like a dark lantern, which serves their own turn and guides them their own way, but is never known (according to the Scripture phrase) either to shine forth before men, or to glorify their Father in heaven.

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
Like
Dark
Phrases
Known
Guides
Lantern
Heaven
Scripture
Lanterns
Turns
Forth
Glorify
Father
According
Serves
Way
Shining
Phrase
Never
Turn
Shine
Men
Either
Wit

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In this commonplace world every one is said to be romantic who either admires a fine thing or does one.
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Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.
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Some praise at morning what they blame at night, but always think the last opinion right.
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And not a vanity is given in vain.
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The difference is too nice - Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.
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Every woman is at heart a rake.
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Fear not the anger of the wise to raise Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.
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Wit is the lowest form of humor.
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In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fixed, 'tis fixed as in a frost.
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While I live, no rich or noble knave shall walk the world in credit to his grave.
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Persons of genius, and those who are most capable of art, are always most fond of nature: as such are chiefly sensible, that all art consists in the imitation and study of nature.
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Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
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Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.
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What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath. A thing beyond us, even before our death.
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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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How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
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Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!
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Truth needs not flowers of speech.
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Some positive persisting fops we know, Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so But you with pleasure own your errors past, And make each day a critique on the last.
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Avoid Extremes and shun the fault of such Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.
Alexander Pope