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The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife gives all the strength and color of our life.

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
Wells
Lights
Well
Shade
Giving
Variety
Life
Whose
Strength
Gives
Accorded
Color
Shades
Light
Strife

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Thus God and nature linked the gen'ral frame, And bade self-love and social be the same.
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Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, They rise, they break, and to that sea return.
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I have more zeal than wit.
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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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To be, contents his natural desire, He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company. Go wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense Weigh thy opinion against Providence.
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Who finds not Providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies.
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The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy.
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Beauty draws us with a single hair.
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It is observable that the ladies frequent tragedies more than comedies the reason may be, that in tragedy their sex is deified and adored, in comedy exposed and ridiculed.
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The people's voice is odd, It is, and it is not, the voice of God.
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Say first, of god above or man below what can we reason but from what we know.
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Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.
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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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Our business in the field of fight, Is not to question, but to prove our might.
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The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd
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Our plenteous streams a various race supply, The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, And pikes, the tyrants of the wat'ry plains.
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Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, Of crooked counsels and dark politics.
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Wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
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All other goods by fortune's hand are given, A wife is the peculiar gift of Heaven.
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Poets heap virtues, painters gems, at will, And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill.
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