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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.

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
Sick
Divulge
Mankind
Cabinets
Dead
Closets
Secret
Publish
Sentiments
Letters
Private
Friendship
Ransacked

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Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.
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Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
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For what I have publish'd, I can only hope to be pardon'd but for what I have burned, I deserve to be prais'd.
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Sole judge of Truth, in endless Error hurled: / The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
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Party-spirit at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.
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Fool, 'tis in vain from wit to wit to roam: Know, sense, like charity, begins at home.
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Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
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Man never thinks himself happy, but when he enjoys those things which others want or desire.
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Of darkness visible so much be lent, as half to show, half veil, the deep intent.
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Words are like Leaves and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.
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A brave man thinks no one his superior who does him an injury, for he has it then in his power to make himself superior to the other by forgiving it.
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Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please, With too much spirit to be e'er at ease, With too much quickness ever to be taught, With too much thinking to have common thought: You purchase pain with all that joy can give, And die of nothing but a rage to live.
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I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
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Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine, Earth for whose use? Pride answers, 'Tis for mine For me kind nature wakes her genial power, Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flower.
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And make each day a critic on the last.
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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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The people's voice is odd, It is, and it is not, the voice of God.
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Get place and wealth, if possible with grace if not, by any means get wealth and place.
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Search then the ruling passion: This clue, once found, unravels all the rest.
Alexander Pope
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O happiness! our being's end and aim! Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name: That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die.
Alexander Pope