Quote

I lose my patience, and I own it too, When works are censur'd, not as bad but new While if our Elders break all reason's laws, These fools demand not pardon but Applause.

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
Law
Criticism
Reason
Laws
Demand
Fool
Elders
Works
Applause
Lose
Pardon
Loses
Fools
Break
Patience

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The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife gives all the strength and color of our life.
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Who sees pale Mammom pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor.
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Passions are the gales of life.
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Genius creates, and taste preserves.
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The Right Divine of Kings to govern wrong.
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Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.
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Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
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Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old.
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Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain Here earth and water seem to strive again, Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised, But, as the world, harmoniously confused: Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.
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Wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense!
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At present we can only reason of the divine justice from what we know of justice in man. When we are in other scenes, we may have truer and nobler ideas of it but while we are in this life, we can only speak from the volume that is laid open before us.
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A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age.
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Ask you what provocation I have had? The strong antipathy of good to bad.
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Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from every thorn.
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All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see All discord, harmony not understood All partial evil, universal good.
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What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.
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Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,- His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies.
Alexander Pope
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Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise.
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Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?
Alexander Pope
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Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed was the ninth beatitude.
Alexander Pope