Alexander Pope

I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.

Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain

The world forgetting by the world forgot.

How happy is the blameless vestal__ lot!The world forgetting, by the world forgot.Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!Each pray__ accepted, and each wish resign__

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs,What mighty contests rise from trivial things,...

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to seeMen not afraid of God afraid of me.

Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,In pleasing memory of all he stole.

In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies;All quit their sphere and rush into the skies.Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell, Aspiring to be angels, men rebel.

Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, they rise, they break, and to that sea return.

Music resembles poetry, in eachAre nameless graces which no methods teach,And which a master hand alone can reach.

Some who grow dull religious straight commenceAnd gain in morals what they lose in sense.

Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!

The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,Are what ten thousand envy and adore:All, all look up, with reverential Awe,At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the Law:While Truth, Worth, Wisdom, daily they decry-`'Nothing is sacred now but Villainy'- Epilogue to the Satires, Dialogue I

True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'dWhat oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;Something whose truth convinced at sight we find,That gives us back the image of our mind.As shades more sweetly recommend the light,So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,To raise the genius, and to mend the heart

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,The proper study of mankind is Man.Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,A being darkly wise and rudely great:With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side,With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride,He hangs between, in doubt to act or rest;In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast;In doubt his mind or body to prefer;Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err;Alike in ignorance, his reason such,Whether he thinks too little or too much;Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;Still by himself abused or disabused;Created half to rise, and half to fall;Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd;The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!Go, wondrous creature! mount where science guides,Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides;Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,Correct old time, and regulate the sun;Go, soar with Plato to th_ empyreal sphere,To the first good, first perfect, and first fair;Or tread the mazy round his followers trod,And quitting sense call imitating God;As Eastern priests in giddy circles run,And turn their heads to imitate the sun.Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule__hen drop into thyself, and be a fool!