Alexander Pope Quotes - Page 2

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.

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,

There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feat of reason and the flow of soul.

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

The vanity of human life is like a river constantly passing away and yet constantly coming on.

Know then thyself presume not God to scan: The proper study of mankind is man.

What then remains, but well our power to use,And keep good humour still whate’er we lose?And trust me, dear, good humour can prevail,When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul

All gardening is landscape painting.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole Whose body Nature is and God the soul.

If it be the chief point of friendship to comply with a friend's notions and inclinations he possesses this is an eminent degree; he lies down when I sit, and walks when I walk, which is more that many good friends can pretend to do.

What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.

Make use of every friend— and every foe.

Most critics, fond of subservient artstill make the whole depend upon a part.They talk of principles, but notions prizeAnd all to one loved folly sacrifice.

The pride of aiming at more knowledge, and pretending to more perfection, is the cause of Man's error and misery.

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,And 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.

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

The feast of reason and the flow of soul.

For when success a lover's toil attends,Few ask, if fraud or force attain'd his ends

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

Words are like Leaves; and where they most abound,Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.

I am his Highness' dog at Kew;Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Never elated while one man's oppress'd Never dejected while another's bless'd.

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.

And all who told it added something new And all who heard it made enlargements too.

While pensive poets painful vigils keep,Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.

Party-spirit . . . which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

Worth makes the man and want of it the fellow The rest is all but leather and prunello.

Thus let me live unseen unknown Thus unlamented let me die Steal from the world and not a stone Tell where I lie.

Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please,With too much spirit to be e'er at ease,With too much quickness ever to be taught,With too much thinking to have common thought:You purchase pain with all that joy can give,And die of nothing but a rage to live.

Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldst thou find,Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind?First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less!Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are madeTaller or stronger than the weeds they shade?Or ask of yonder argent fields above,Why Jove's Satellites are less than Jove?

Thou wert my guide philosopher and friend.

Those half-learn'd witlings, num'rous in our isle As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile

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

For forms of Government let fools contest. Whate'er is best administered is best.

Men would be angels Angels would be gods.

Know thyself, presume not God to scan;The proper study of mankind is man.

Offend her and she knows not to forgive Oblige her and she'll hate you while you live.

Be not the first by whom the new are tried Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

Some praise at morning what they blame at night.

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

If I am right Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay If I am wrong O teach my heart To find that better way!

Not to go back is somewhat to advance. And men must walk at least before they dance.

What so tedious as a twice-told tale?

Then say not man's imperfect, Heav'n in fault;. Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought.

Eve left Adam to meet the Devil in private.

Till tired he sleeps and life's poor play is o'er.

How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!The world forgetting, by the world forgot.Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d

Amusement is the happiness of those who cannot think.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast Man never is but always to be blest.

Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see. Thinks what ne'er was nor is nor e'er shall be.

A man of business may talk of philosophy a man who has none may practise it.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting by the world forgot.

chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd.

Where beams of imagination play,The memory's soft figures melt away.

An obstinate man does not hold opinions but they hold him.

For fools admire but men of sense approve.

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.

True wit is nature to advantage dressed;What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.

Woman's at best a contradiction still.

They dream in courtship but in wedlock wake.