Maxioms by Alexander Pope
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.
On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never read more
The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never lose sight of it.
[Fr., Un enfant en ouvrant ses yeux doit voir la patrie, et
jusqu'a la mort ne voir qu'elle.]
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere and rush into the skies.
read more
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere and rush into the skies.
Pride still is aiming at the bless'd abodes,
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
What nature wants, commodious gold bestows;
'Tis thus we cut the bread another sows.
What nature wants, commodious gold bestows;
'Tis thus we cut the bread another sows.
