Alexander Pope Quotes

And write about it, Goddess, and about it!

I believe no one qualification is so likely to make a good writer, as the power of rejecting his own thoughts.

Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, Are lost on hearers that our merits know.

Virtuous and vicious every man must be, few in the extreme, but all in the degree.

Time conquers all, and we must time obey.

Who are next to knaves? Those that converse with them.

Virtue alone is happiness below.

So perish all who do the like again.

Know, Nature's children all divide her care, The fur that warms a monarch warmed a bear.

I begin where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human pleasures.

Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around!

Physicians are in general the most amiable companions and the best friends, as well as the most learned men I know.

Our passions are like convulsion fits, which, though they make us stronger for a time, leave us the weaker ever after.

Education forms the common mind.

Sure of their qualities and demanding praise, more go to ruined fortunes than are raised.

Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heaven.

Trust not yourself, but your defects to know, make use of every friend and every foe.

There is a certain majesty in simplicity which is far above all the quaintness of wit.

Die of a rose in aromatic pain.

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

On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.

Cavil you may, but never criticise.

A person who is too nice an observer of the business of the crowd, like one who is too curious in observing the labor of bees, will often be stung for his curiosity.

Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools.

Honor and shame from no condition rise. Act well your part: there all the honor lies.

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

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mixed with Gods, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand - the name appears Already written - wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeyes.

A good-natured man has the whole world to be happy out of.

Woman's at best a contradiction still.

A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.

For forms of government, let fools contest; Whate'er is best administered, is best.

The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!

There should be, methinks, as little merit in loving a woman for her beauty as in loving a man for his prosperity; both being equally subject to change.

Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.

I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.

Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.

All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace.

Here thou, great Anna! Whom three realms obey, / Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.

Genius involves both envy and calumny.

Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore; full well they merit all they feel, and more: unaw by precepts, human or divine, like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join.

All chance, direction, which thou canst not see

To err is human; to forgive, divine.

When to the Permanent is sacrificed the Mutable, the prize is thine: the drop returneth whence it came. The Open Path leads to the changeless change - Non-Being, the glorious state of Absoluteness, the Bliss past human thought.

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.

The pure and noble, the graceful and dignified, simplicity of language is nowhere in such perfection as in the Scriptures and Homer. The whole book of Job, with regard both to sublimity of thought and morality, exceeds, beyond all comparison, the most noble parts of Homer.

Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

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

She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules; Charms by accepting, by submitting, sways, Yet has her humor most, when she obeys.