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Cursed Be The Verse, How Well So E'er It Flow, That Tends To Make One Worthy Man My Foe.
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Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
-- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 283
Related:
No creature smarts so little as a fool. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 84...
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 213...
Obliged by hunger and request of friends. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 44...
On wings of winds came flying all abroad." -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 218...
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 333...
E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me. -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr.
Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 12...
Destroy his fib or sophistry--in vain! The creature 's at his dirty work again.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 91...
Fired that the house rejects him, "'Sdeath! I 'll print it, And shame the fools.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 61...
That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long, But stoop'd to truth, and moraliz'd his song.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 340...