Alexander Pope

Extremes in nature equal ends produce; In man they join to some mysterious use.

Extremes in nature equal ends produce; In man they join to some mysterious use.

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his read more

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.

Line after line my gushing eye o'erflow,
Led thro' a said variety of woe:
Now warm in read more

Line after line my gushing eye o'erflow,
Led thro' a said variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!

Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed was the ninth beatitude.

Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed was the ninth beatitude.

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold--
For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.