Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;
And universal darkness buries all.
Mots clés alexander-pope entropy
Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk,
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?"
Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings,
This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings;
Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys,
Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys,
Mots clés satire
What dire offence from am'rous causes springs,
What mighty contests rise from trivial things,...
Mots clés love fighting triviality
يندفع المغفلون حيثما تخشي الملائكة أن تطأ المكان
Alexander PopeMots clés إندفاع مغفل مغفلون ملائكة ملاك
If you want to know what God thinks about money just look at the people He gives it to.
Alexander PopeMots clés misattributed-to-alexander-pope misattributed-to-dorothy-parker
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Mots clés poetry beauty soul worth
Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear, with ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear...
Alexander PopeMots clés love
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
Averse alike to flatter, or offend;
Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not critics to their judgment, too?
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