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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.

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
Touch
Slides
Sacred
Verse
Song
Merry
Whole
Ridicule
Long
Verses
Burthen
Time
Rhyme
Offends
Life
Minister
Sore
Ministers
Unlucky

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Great oaks grow from little acorns. He has a green thumb. He has green fingers. He's sowing his wild oats. Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
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And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public show.
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If a man's character is to be abused there's nobody like a relative to do the business.
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Offend her, and she knows not to forgive Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live.
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But just disease to luxury succeeds, And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds.
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Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
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True politeness consists in being easy one's self, and in making every one about one as easy as one can.
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Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
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To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines.
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Ah! why, ye Gods, should two and two make four?
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A tree is a nobler object than a prince in his coronation-robes.
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Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
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For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural inclination to carrion.
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Fortune in men has some small diff'rence made, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade, The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
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What is fame? a fancied life in others' breath.
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Woman's at best a contradiction still.
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Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,-health, peace, and competence.
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The scripture in times of disputes is like an open town in times of war, which serves in differently the occasions of both parties.
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Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?
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Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?
Alexander Pope